The Knight and the Crossbreed
by The Other Red
Summary: A "chosen undead" knight stumbles his way into the Painted World, and decides to tell Priscilla stories about himself so that he can learn more about her. But is he really the polite, upstanding warrior that he seems to be?
1. Entrances and Introductions

**The Knight and the Crossbreed**

The knight groaned and opened his eyes, slowly climbing to his feet. He looked around, and saw that he was standing on a rickety wooden bridge, leading up to what seemed to be a snow-capped mountain. The air was heavy with a deathly chill, colder than the knight had felt in many years. He was glad to have a coat and a shawl around his shoulders.

"Is this... the landscape from the painting? Did I get pulled into another realm?" The knight's low baritone was lost to the howling wind, not that he expected anyone to hear him anyway. Seeing no other options, he decided to proceed up to the mountain. The bridge creaked and strained with every step, the thin boards worn and rotten from age. "Whatever gods rule this realm, please let this path hold." he prayed. Luckily for the knight, his prayers seemed to be answered, and he made his way safely onto solid ground. Looking forward, he saw that a thin path snaked its way up the mountain ahead of him. Snow crunching under his feet, the knight was pleased to discover a welcome sight near the end of the path.

"A bonfire! Perhaps this place is hospitable after all..." he said, relieved. As soon as he took a seat in front of the magical flame, a comforting warmth enveloped his body, and for just a moment, all of his troubles were gone. The orange glow of the fire illuminated the knight's armor. The steel of his helmet shone brightly, and the heraldic symbol on his coat, embroidered in gold, appeared to glow. The distinctive design of his armor belied his identity instantly: an elite knight of Astora. The knight rose to his feet, refreshed, and looked further up the path, which led to a crumbled black stone building.

The knight approached the building, and saw a large open doorway, leading into a barren courtyard. As he progressed into the snowy courtyard, he saw a trail of human footprints in the snow, leading to a large rounded tower. "These prints are recent. Who would have come to this wretched place?" the knight grumbled to himself. Following the trail, the knight climbed up a crumbling stone staircase and emerged from the tower onto a balcony, where he saw an enormous stone bridge stretching out in front of him. Lying partway down the bridge was a stationary black mass. The knight approached the object carefully and saw, to his horror, that it was a pair of huge, terribly rotten legs. The footprints were all over the bridge here, in multiple directions, and the knight surmised that his predecessor must have slain the creature. Beyond the rotted mass, there was a coliseum-like structure, so the knight carefully climbed over the pair of legs, trying not to imagine what horrid diseases it might carry.

Unfortunately, there was a large hole in the bridge that the knight had failed to see, and he plummeted almost twenty feet downwards before landing on a lower level of the bridge. He had landed flat upon his back, and his entire body ached as he slowly picked himself up. His whole body was covered with snow now, and the warmth of the bonfire, which he had rested at only a few minutes before, seemed like naught but a happy memory. Very mindful of his surroundings now, the knight trudged towards the round stone building ahead of him. As he entered the structure through a tall archway, he was surprised to see a figure loom into view. She was a towering figure, almost three times his height, and she held a wicked scythe that was equally sized. Despite this intimidating stature, however, the knight saw that she held no hostility. Instead, her face, framed by pure white hair, was laced with worry.

"Thou art not the first stranger to these lands. As with the other, thou do not belong." she said coolly. She spoke with a refined, antiquated tongue, which told the knight that the woman was very old. There was no anger in her voice, but the knight did detect a hint of annoyance.

"I mean you no harm, fair lady. I am simply a lost and weary traveler. May I ask who you are?" the knight replied, trying to sound polite. The knight was legitimately curious about the woman, though he hoped that his question would not offend her.

"I am Priscilla, born of man and dragon. If thou truly hast no ill intent, I shalt tolerate thy presence... for now. What is thine name, traveler?" Priscilla answered, her voice sounding more open now. She was intrigued by this traveler, for he seemed earnest in his politeness. She lowered her scythe slightly, to indicate that they were on peaceful terms.

"I am Sir Yeral of Astora, and I appreciate your hospitality, Lady Priscilla. Worry not, for I will leave you in peace soon enough. I will linger for a few hours, at most, until I am ready to depart." Yeral stated earnestly, punctuating his greeting with a humble bow. After a moment, he leaned his back against the stone wall and slumped down, assuming a comfortable sitting position. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Are you really a crossbreed between a human and a dragon? I have never heard of such a thing before."

"Thou wouldst not have. My name was erased from history, my very existence obscured. Some feared the powers I doth possess." Priscilla said, her eyes seeming distant and sad. After a moment, she looked away. "I hath said too much. 'Tis not my place to complain of fate."

Yeral smiled sympathetically, although Priscilla could not see it behind his helmet. He felt sorry for the crossbreed, what kind of power would be so bad that she would hide away forever? He desperately wanted to hear more about her, but he knew that she did not want to discuss her past. Of course, she didn't want him to stay there at all. Maybe there was a way that he could coax her into sharing more?

"Lady Priscilla, would you care to hear a bit of my past? How I came to this isolated realm? And in return, perhaps I might learn something about you?" Yeral asked, hoping that she would be curious enough to agree. Priscilla paused for a moment, and then took a few steps closer to Yeral, nodding her head. She had never had someone interested in just talking to her before. She still was not sure if she could trust this so-called knight, but curiosity got the best of her. Seeing her signs of agreement, Yeral started off on his tale.

"It all started in an asylum, far in the northern reaches..."


	2. Asylums and Astorans

The hallway of the Undead Asylum was eerily quiet, as Sir Yeral gazed down at an unmoving figure. It was a murky, ruined chamber, and Yeral stood up to his ankles in water. Sunlight filtered in from a hole in the roof, bathing the inhabitants in light. At this point in time, Yeral was dressed in the steel armaments of a lesser knight, unlike the body before him, who was dressed in badly worn elite knight regalia.

"Farewell, Sir Oscar. May your soul rest in peace, even if your body does not." Yeral murmured quietly, before turning away. He was oddly saddened by the death of this knight, a man that he didn't even know. Still, the best he could do was try and honor the last wishes of the one who freed him. As Yeral turned towards the exit of the flooded hall, however, he was surprised to see another undead standing there, dressed in armor identical to Oscar's. The undead spoke up, her light voice sounding cautious.

"What happened? What did he tell you?" she asked, taking a few steps towards Yeral. She held a shining claymore in her hands, but she did not seem to present an immediate threat. Since she was clearly another knight of Astora, Yeral decided that he would trust her for the time being.

"He gave me a prophecy. Ring the bell of awakening, and we will know our fates." Yeral replied honestly. Hopefully, the woman would know what he was talking about.

"Ah, yes, Sir Oscar spoke of the bell often. Do you seek to fulfill this legend?" the woman asked him, sounding like she was thinking something over.

"Yes. I would relish the chance to learn more about my fate, and about the undead." Yeral stated certainly, although he had no idea how he might accomplish such a thing. The woman's question seemed strange to him, though. Why would she care what he did? The answer came a moment later, as the woman gave her response.

"Well then, perhaps I might aid you on your journey. I am Reise. I know your name, Sir Yeral. Now, steel yourself, for a dreadful demon prowls the asylum." Without further ado, Reise turned and strolled away confidently. Her high rank and prideful bearing clearly indicated that she was the more skilled fighter of the two. Yeral wondered for a moment how she knew his name, before hesitantly following after her. Exiting the dim hallway, Reise turned and led them up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, Yeral saw the withered body of a deceased hollow, no doubt slain by Reise. The two knights soon emerged onto a crumbled brick terrace, overlooking the outside of the Asylum, which was shear cliffs in all directions. As they walked, Yeral saw the corpses of several more hollows, some contorted in painful positions. Reise had clearly made efforts to cut down as many hollowed undead as she could find.

Reise turned towards an archway leading back inside the asylum, and stepped through it onto a small stone balcony. The balcony protruded above the rectangular entrance hall of the Asylum, which was lined with ceramic pottery. Yeral heard a thunderous sound, like enormous footprints, and the sound of shattering vases.

"There! The demon! Sir Yeral, with me!" Reise exclaimed, an odd sense of excitement in her voice. Yeral quickly hurried to her side, drawing his broadsword. He looked down, and saw a hideous, bloated monster carrying a massive hammer in its clawed hands. The demon looked up and saw the two knights on the balcony, and let out an ear-splitting roar. Reise turned to Yeral and nodded, and together the two knights jumped off the ledge, plunging their blades downwards at the beast below.

The Asylum Demon possessed an intimidating visage, but it was neither intelligent, nor fast. In the face of two skilled knights, it presented little challenge. Even its massive hammer was so cumbersome that it was easy to evade. As the monster fell from the combined strikes of the knights, its body disintegrated into nothingness, leaving behind naught but a large key. Yeral grabbed the key and inserted it into the large door at the entrance to the hall. For just a moment, he thought he heard the stomping sounds of the demon's huge feet far below him, but he shook it off, knowing that the demon was dead. As Yeral and Reise stepped out of the Asylum, they saw a jagged triangular cliff jutting out in front of them.

"I suppose now we have another problem. How do we escape this mountain?" Yeral asked worriedly, hoping that his new-found partner would have an answer. Hearing his question, Reise furrowed her brow inside her helmet, and stayed silent for a moment to think.

"If this is truly our destiny, then perhaps fate will aid us?" she said at last. She looked around, perhaps hoping to find some signs of magical influence, though Yeral wasn't quite sure what she was expecting to see. After a moment, however, she pointed at the edge of the cliff. "That bird's nest seems awfully large, does it not?" Yeral looked to where she was pointing, and saw that she was right: a nest, containing eggs larger than he had ever seen, sat at the very tip of the triangular protrusion. Slowly, the two of them trudged towards the cliff's edge.

The knights stared at the bird's nest for several moments, and Yeral started to become convinced that nothing would happen. Right as he was about to open his mouth, the sound of enormous wings flapping drowned out all thought, and the two knights were suddenly grabbed by sinister black talons. A gargantuan crow had snagged them, lifting the knights up and carrying them away: their ferry to the land of ancient lords.

* * *

"...and that was how I first arrived in Lordran. Of course, that is by no means my most interesting tale." Yeral said, finishing his story to the crossbreed. As he had narrated his experiences, Priscilla had sat down in front of him, her legs crossed in the snow. She reminded Yeral slightly of a child, eager to hear stories of adventure. Hearing that he had ceased his story for now, but wanting to know more, Priscilla decided to ask some questions that had been plaguing her mind.

"This companion of thine, Lady Reise, why is she not accompanying thou?" she wondered curiously. Yeral's eyes darkened inside his helmet, and Priscilla noticed a sudden shift in his mood. Perhaps she had upset her strange visitor?

"Reise could not be here with me. But I do not wish to discuss it." Yeral replied sharply. Priscilla immediately knew that something awful must have happened to the other knight, but she decided not to pry. Instead, she spoke softly, feeling a sense of sympathy for this stranger.

"Thou art alone, then? I doth understand, my life hath been one of solitude. Only one was ever kind to me, he who constructed this realm." she said, with a distinct air of melancholy to her voice. Yeral, however, had perked up somewhat, intrigued to learn a bit more of Priscilla's history. His plan to get her to open up was working, albeit slowly.

"I suppose I ought to continue my tale, for the real adventures started after I arrived in Lordran."


	3. Bells and Gargoyles

Sir Yeral stood atop the Parish, gazing out at the bell tower across the slanted roof. The enormous iron bell was framed by the setting sun, and four bronze gargoyles sat around it, almost like immobile sentries. Reise was no longer with him, for she had ventured below, to the vile swamps of Blighttown. Upon arriving in Lordran, the two knights had learnt, to their displeasure, that there were in fact TWO Bells of Awakening, one above the Undead Parish, and one deep in Blighttown. He may have split with his partner, but Sir Yeral was not alone, for he was now accompanied by another, less pleasant companion.

"Come now, let's not stand about. The bell is just there." spoke the smooth voice of Knight Lautrec, with more than a tinge of impatience. The knight's golden armor gleamed brilliantly, and his curved shotels glinted with a wicked light. Yeral wasn't really sure he could trust the strange man that had been locked in the Parish, but he wanted as much help as he could get. Still, the impatient knight was really starting to grate on his nerves. Nevertheless, he knew that Lautrec was right, so he stepped out onto the roof, which was thankfully well-supported. About halfway to the belltower, however, he heard a loud cracking noise, and looked up. One of the gargoyles built onto the tower had come to life, and was now dashing across the roof at him.

"Ah yes, living gargoyles. How quaint." Lautrec said dryly, as Yeral raised his shield. The gargoyle swung viciously with its long, heavy halberd, but Yeral stood his ground and the blade was deflected off his kite shield. Lautrec leapt forward with his shotels, their thin blades slicing cleanly through the gargoyle's bronze hide. As the gargoyle hefted the halberd above its head, preparing to smash Yeral into the ground, he rolled to the side and swiped at the beast with his sword, leaving a long cut across its face. Lautrec, having circled around behind the monstrous statue, slashed quickly and repeatedly at the gargoyle's axe-like tail, which was quickly severed in a shower of blood.

As soon as they had gained the upper hand, however, a shrill shriek permeated the air, and another gargoyle jumped down from the bell tower. This one seemed to be more worn and battered, and its tail was already missing. It landed right behind Lautrec, to his surprise, and leaned forward, its gaping jaws opened wide. A huge stream of fire burst from the second gargoyle's throat, blasting Lautrec backwards. Yeral was worried for his safety for a moment, before Lautrec climbed to his feet, smoking slightly. Yeral didn't have time to see if his comrade was injured, however, as the first gargoyle bashed its round shield into his head.

Dazed, Yeral staggered backwards, and only narrowly avoided a swipe from the beast's halberd. As the gargoyle swung horizontally again, Yeral quickly rolled towards it, ducking under the blade, and stabbed his sword into the gargoyle's heart. It let out a pitiful cry and disintegrated into specks of golden light, leaving behind nothing but its halberd. Seeing its comrade perish, the second gargoyle roared in rage and dived at Yeral, preparing to blast a stream of fire point-blank. At the very last moment, Lautrec's curved blades slammed into its head, and it too disappeared into thin air.

"My, my, that was an adventure. I suppose we should have expected the bells to be guarded. Nothing in this land is ever easy." Lautrec said mildly, apparently completely unfazed by the fierce battle that had taken place. Yeral, on the other hand, was a different story. He was breathing heavily, and his hands were quivering from the tension. Slowly, he looked up at the bell tower, hoping that the other two gargoyles were merely statues. Since neither showed any signs of movement, he decided that it was safe to proceed.

"Well, the bell is just there, right? Hopefully there is nothing else between it, and us..." Yeral said, just as much to himself as to Lautrec, as he walked forwards slowly. Lautrec, however, had turned back to the entrance to the Parish. "Sir Lautrec? Do you not want to ring the bell with me?" Yeral asked curiously. Just what was his new partner thinking?

"Oh, no, you go on ahead. I will return to Firelink and rest. That fire scorched me more than it seemed." Lautrec replied coolly, but Yeral suspected that this wasn't the whole truth. As Lautrec headed back into the Parish, Yeral simply shrugged. Lautrec's business was Lautrec's business, he decided, and turned back to the bell tower, marching slowly across the rooftop. Fortunately, the other gargoyles were indeed inanimate, and Yeral made his way safely inside the tower. From there, all it took was a couple of long ladders, and he was standing before the Bell of Awakening itself. Spotting a large lever under the bell, he hurried over and pulled it backwards. Their was a sound of heavy gears grinding, and then the enormous bell began to sway back and forth, its thunderous clanging filling the air. As the noise subsided, Yeral turned to begin the climb back down.

"One down, one remains. I hope Reise is faring well..." he muttered to himself.

* * *

"That is how the first bell was rung. Trust me, these bells are relevant to how I ended up here." Yeral concluded. Priscilla was smiling slightly now, she seemed to have legitimately enjoyed that tale. A vicious battle against living statues, and a suspicious new character. Of course, she couldn't shake the feeling that Yeral was embellishing his stories to make them more exciting, but they were interesting nonetheless. Plus, she was intrigued to hear anything about the outside world after so many centuries of isolation. Naturally, just as with the previous story, that were a few matters that piqued her curiosity.

"Thou mentioned a vile swamp called 'Blighttown', couldst thou elaborate?" she asked, although she already had an unpleasant mental image. Yeral shuddered in disgust, which only reinforced her theory.

"Ugh. It is a miserable, poison-filled hole that sits above Izalith. It is infested by horrid mutated creatures, enormous mosquitoes, and deadly toxins. The descent down involves climbing on thin, rickety wooden platforms, and the floor of the swamp is naught but poisoned sludge. It is one of the worst places I have had the misfortune of visiting." Yeral ranted miserably. He vividly remembered everything about that awful marsh. Priscilla was surprised, this was the first time that the knight had sounded angry, although she knew that he wasn't mad at her.

"I hath never seen something as vile as thou describe. My birthplace was great Anor Londo, which wouldst always be impeccably cleaned." She shared, thinking back to the shining white city, its sky lit by eternal sun. She had heard of swamps in stories, and seen the occasional painting by traveling artists, but never experienced such filth for herself. Recalling her past, however, quickly put Priscilla into a melancholy mood. "...though, I doth suppose, the ways I was treated were vile enough..." she mumbled, more to herself than to Yeral. Yeral looked at her with pure sympathy. She really was a complete outcast, wasn't she? No wonder she was wary of visitors... That feeling of being shunned by your community... Yeral knew it as well, though perhaps that was his own fault...

"Ahem... I suppose you do not want to talk about it?" he asked Priscilla awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort her. In fact, why was he feeling so bad for someone that was practically a stranger?

"No, no, not now... Please continue thy tale..." Priscilla murmured. Yeral knew that she was feeling very sad at the moment, but seeing no other options, he decided to do as she asked.


	4. Reunions and Chaos Spiders

With the sound of rattling armor and clanking boots, Sir Yeral dashed around the corner and out of the graveyard below Firelink Shrine. He had replaced his broadsword with an enormous Zweihander from the graveyard, but his intrusion had angered the skeletal residents. He peeked around the corner, and saw that the living skeletons had stopped following him. A few still ambled about below him, including one giant that was twice Yeral's height, but they seemed to have forgotten the thief. Sighing with relief, Yeral turned and headed towards the shrine.

Firelink Shrine was a dreary place, nothing but crumbled buildings overgrown with moss. Perhaps it was once teeming with life, but now it was just a grassy ruin. Still, Yeral felt an odd sense of familiarity with the place, almost like he was home. In the center of the shrine sat a crackling bonfire, burning higher than most due to the firekeeper maintaining it. The firekeeper in question was an undead woman named Anastacia, who wore ragged, soot-stained robes, could not speak, and stayed in a cage under Firelink. Yeral briefly felt sorry for her terrible fate, but he was quickly distracted by what was sitting across from the cage.

The figure's shining golden armor, somehow untarnished by the filth of Lordran, was recognizable at once. It was none other than Sir Lautrec, Yeral's temporary comrade. Lautrec had been gone when Yeral had first returned to Firelink, so he had decided to explore the area as he waited for Reise to return. Reise was still nowhere to be seen, but at least Lautrec had returned, so Yeral was happy nonetheless. He didn't particularly enjoy Lautrec's company, but he needed someone to talk to.

"Ah, Sir Lautrec! Greetings!" Yeral exclaimed loudly. Lautrec, who had been staring intently at Anastacia, looked up at him slowly. His face was hidden, but his body language made it obvious that he was scowling with annoyance.

"Yes... Sir Yeral, wasn't it? Did ringing the bell prove too difficult for you?" Lautrec asked sarcastically. Yeral simply glared, suddenly remembering why he didn't like the knight from Carim. As Yeral descended the stairs to where Lautrec was, the golden knight spoke up again. "Just a little joke, I know you are capable enough. Perhaps your fetching companion will have similar luck." he said quietly, clearly attempting to prevent Yeral from getting angry. At the mention of a companion, however, Yeral's ears perked up.

"Wait, you know Lady Reise?" he asked curiously. How would a knight from Carim know a knight from Astora? Unless they had met during Lautrec's travels...

"Well, we are acquainted. I happened to run into her in the depths of the Undead Burg's sewers, on the way to Blighttown. I found her to be rather humorless..." Lautrec recounted, thinking back to the encounter with the elite knight. She had been quite determined to get to the Blighttown bell, and she had a violent streak as well. He chuckled to himself. "Of course, I later found out that there was a shorter way to get to Blighttown. If only the poor woman knew that, she might be back by now." He said, clearly hoping to pique Yeral's curiosity. It worked like a charm, as Yeral quickly ran right up next to him.

"Please, tell me this shortcut! I would aid Reise if I could." Yeral pleaded, desperately hoping to join up with Reise again. He knew that she could handle herself, but still he worried for her safety. Blighttown was supposed to be far more dangerous than the Parish. Even more than that, however, he simply hated feeling useless. Reise was still undertaking a dangerous journey, while Yeral had rung his bell and returned to safety. He knew that Reise was far braver than he. Lautrec chuckled again, sounding more menacing this time.

"Oh, yes, I can tell you. From the entrance of New Londo, you can find a door, which will take you into a valley, where a tunnel leads straight to Blighttown. Only... the door is locked. It could be opened if you had the key, but you do not." Lautrec explained with a hint of smugness. A moment later, he rummaged around in his pouch of supplies, and produced a metal ring of keys. "Of course, I could always give you my master key. I do not deal in charity, however. How does... five-thousand souls sound?" he asked shrewdly, knowing that Yeral wouldn't refuse his steep price. He briefly wondered if he should have just given the knight the key, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to get more souls. Yeral grumbled angrily about being ripped off, but he still drew a large glowing clump of souls from himself and offered them to Lautrec, who handed him the master key without a word.

"Next time, Sir Lautrec, please think about something other than your own pockets." Yeral said coldly, clearly unimpressed with Lautrec's scam. That sort of greed was completely unbecoming for a knight, and on any other day Yeral would have refused. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to be around Lautrec anymore, but still... perhaps some help would be nice. "Would you journey with me again?" he asked hesitantly, but Lautrec shook his head.

"I helped you once, but let's not be too friendly. Besides, I have... other business." Lautrec replied dryly, staring intently at Anastacia's cell. Yeral was really starting to get unnerved now, he was certain that Lautrec must be planning something. Without any idea as to what, however, he simply sighed and turned away, heading for the ruins of New Londo below Firelink. As he climbed down the stairs to the elevator, he kept thinking about what he might find in Blighttown. Stepping onto an elevator, he-

* * *

"Ahem, Sir Yeral, might I interrupt thy tale?" Priscilla suddenly spoke, cutting off Yeral in the middle of his story. Her voice was still polite, so Yeral knew that she wasn't trying to be rude, but this was the first time that the crossbreed had spoken during his stories.

"Yes, Lady Priscilla?" he asked her curiously. Priscilla seemed to have calmed down from her earlier sadness, but Yeral was still worried about upsetting her.

"I doth not mean to seem rude, but might thou skipeth forwards? Thou hast already described thy experiences of Blighttown enough. I wouldst care to hear about thy reunion with Lady Reise far more." Priscilla asked him lightly, hoping that her request would not offend him. After all, she really did want to hear more of his stories. "Not that thine story is not interesting." she added quickly, not wanting Yeral to misunderstand.

"No, no, I understand. Talking about Blighttown made you unhappy, so we will not talk about Blighttown." Yeral replied warmly. He really didn't mind the interruption at all. After all, the story was being told to get Priscilla to open up, of course he would try to make her happy. If that meant skipping parts of the story, then so be it. "Reise and I met up at the very bottom of the swamp, so I guess I will continue from there..."

* * *

Trudging through the poisoned water, smacking the occasional giant mosquito with his sword, Yeral searched the swamp at the bottom of Blighttown intently. He had come across the fresh bodies of several monsters, so he knew that Reise must have ventured this far. After almost an hour of searching (and consuming lots of poison-curing moss), he finally heard sloshing footfalls in the distance. Dashing as fast as he could through the sludge, he saw the silhouette of a person appear through the murky fog. Looming into view was none other than Reise, her elite knight's armor stained and battered from her harrowing journey.

"Sir Yeral? Is that you? …..What are you doing down here?" Reise called out, sounding simultaneously confused and relieved. Her voice wavered slightly, lacking the strong confidence that it had before. Clearly, her long and difficult trek had worn her down, and Yeral understood why. He had avoided the worst of it, and yet he was still miserable. No wonder Reise would be on-edge.

"I came to offer you aid. The first bell had powerful guardians, I suspect this one will be no different." Yeral replied, trying to make himself sound courageous. "...if we can find it, that is." he added a moment later. He hadn't seen any signs of a bell tower in the swamp. Reise, however, simply turned and pointed towards what seemed to be a large hill, not far from where they were.

"This mass is made of webs. It must have taken a mighty spider indeed to create it. If there were to be a 'powerful guardian', I suspect that would be it." she analyzed shrewdly. Squinting his eyes, Yeral saw that she was correct: the supposed hill was actually a webbed lair. Gigantic tree roots snaked their way out of the sides of the web, but Yeral didn't see a tree to accompany them. "Come now, Sir Yeral! Our business is within." Reise called back, and Yeral suddenly noticed that she had started to run towards the lair.

Thankfully, the journey up the mound was uneventful, since the swamp's nastier creatures didn't seem to notice them. Within a few minutes, the two knights found a hole in the side of the webs, leading deeper in. Seeing no other options, they nodded at each other and headed in. The hole turned out to be a thin, snaking web tunnel which the knights gradually made their way through, before it opened up into a large empty chamber. Reise pointed down at the floor of the chamber and spoke. "Look! These are stone tiles. This must have been some sort of structure. Part of the bell tower, perhaps?" she mused. Yeral didn't have much time to consider her theory, however, before the room was filled with stomping sounds.

Rounding the corner from a ruined stone staircase on the opposite end of the chamber was a massive flaming spider-like beast. Or perhaps it was not a beast, for conjoined to it was the body of a woman. She would've been beautiful, with her jet-black hair covering her chest, if it were not for her monstrous state. Seeing the intruders, the spider-woman – named Quelaag – smiled and drew a strange black curved sword, clearly pleased with the opportunity to kill those that had trespassed in her domain. The head of the spider let out a mighty roar, and Quelaag charged at the two knights.

As soon as Quelaag got near them, Yeral moved to swing at her with his Zweihander, only to find himself slashed from the side by Quelaag's sword. The blade clearly had some sort of enchantment, as it trailed glowing orange lines of light and it burned like fire where it touched. Yeral screamed and clutched at his side, the blade's heat cutting right through his armor. Quelaag followed up by swing broadly down at Reise, who ducked under the blade's reach and struck at Quelaag's legs with her claymore. The spider hissed quietly in pain, but appeared otherwise uninjured by the blow. In the brief moment that his foe was distracted, Yeral had taken a hearty swig from the Estus Flask on his belt, which healed the nasty burn he had received.

Quelaag's spider head growled and opened its mouth, spewing out a stream of boiling hot magma, hoping to incinerate the pesky knights. The lava splashed onto the ground all around them, and for a moment Yeral was afraid, before he found himself yanked out of harm's way by Reise. Thinking quickly, he smashed his heavy blade down onto the face of Quelaag's spider. Unlike Reise's relatively light strike, this hefty blow left a sizable cut and disoriented the beast. Quelaag swung wildly with her sword, but Yeral and Reise simultaneously held up their shields, deflecting the swings with ease. As soon as she saw that her attacks were not working, Quelaag wrapped her arms around herself and stood perfectly still. The knights moved to strike during this supposed pause, only for Quelaag to release a powerful burst of red magical energy in a sphere around her, blasting Yeral and Reise backwards with immense force.

"Alright, back off when she gathers power like that." Reise instructed Yeral sternly, although she too had fallen for the trap. Yeral opened his mouth to remind her of that fact, only to be interrupted by Quelaag leaping at him. He quickly rolled to the side as the spider's heavy body slammed downwards. Reise slashed twice at the spider's legs, causing Quelaag to rear up sideways and try to smash her left legs into Reise, who nimbly slipped between them. By now, Yeral had noticed a pattern: Quelaag did not seem to be able to focus on two targets at once, instead constantly taking her eyes off one to attack the other. Taking advantage of this lull, he sliced broadly at her with his huge blade, leaving a deep cut across all of her right legs. As soon as she had turned towards him, Reise – who had noticed the same pattern – repeated Yeral's move and smashed her sword into the spider's face. As Quelaag reeled, the two knights turned to each other. Moving in perfect sync, they drove their blades deep into the spider's hide. Quelaag let out a pitiful scream, and then she was gone, disappearing in a way that was familiar to Yeral.

"Well, I suppose that the bell must lie beyond. I doubt anything more fearsome awaits ahead." Reise said, trying to sound calm. Her body language, however, showed that she was as stressed as Yeral was, her arms trembling. "Still, that was quite a fight." she said, with an air of satisfaction to her voice. Yeral felt uneasy more than anything, but he nodded anyway, and the two trudged towards the staircase.

* * *

"Just as we expected, the bell was just past Quelaag's chamber. Of course, we did not know she had a name at the time..." Yeral said, his story just trailing off awkwardly. Priscilla was smiling again, so it seemed that he had succeeded at cheering her up. This had been his longest and most detailed story yet, and it contained some interesting things indeed.

"A half-human hybrid, thou sayeth? Thou art not making this up to please me, art thou?" Priscilla asked him with an air of suspicion. Of course, she was really certain that he was telling the truth, but Yeral didn't need to know that. Besides, it was hard to tell which details were exaggerated.

"Well, I am not certain she was really human to begin with, nor was she born that way. The similarities to you are loose indeed." Yeral explained. This answer satisfied Priscilla, who knew that there were many odd things in the world. Still, she appreciated Yeral's explanation, and she felt like she could trust him more now. She was also glad that he had respected her request and skipped the middle part of the story. The final act was by far the most exciting anyway. She started to think that, perhaps, she should repay the favor and tell a story about herself, though she wasn't sure what she would want to share. As she contemplated her past experiences, she motioned for Yeral to tell his next story. It would give her time to think, at the very least.


	5. Betrayals and Fortresses

"The bonfire... what happened to the bonfire?" Yeral muttered, stunned. He and Reise had finally emerged from the depths of Blighttown and made their way back up to Firelink Shrine. Right as they had arrived, the shining bonfire had vanished, leaving behind naught but a pile of ash. Yeral had no idea what might have caused such a thing, but Reise clenched her fists in anger.

"This flame was bound to a firekeeper. She... she has just been murdered." she said darkly, her voice shaking with fury. Reise was a noble soul, and such a grotesque act enraged her. "Quickly, Sir Yeral, the culprit cannot have gone yet!" she yelled, and sprinted for the stairs leading down to Anastacia's cell. Yeral shook himself out of his stupor and ran after Reise as fast as he could. As they made their way around the shrine, a familiar figure came into view, and Yeral's blood froze.

"Si... Sir Lautrec... why!?" he stammered, barely able to contain his absolute shock. Indeed, looming ominously before them was Knight Lautrec of Carim, his shotels stained red with blood. In one hand, he clenched Anastacia's glowing silver soul, and his head was tilted at an odd angle. Lautrec let out a menacing chuckle, and Reise lunged towards him with her claymore held in both hands. She was clearly hoping to pummel Lautrec with the sword's weight, but things did not go according to plan. Lautrec shimmered, almost like mist, and then suddenly he was gone, leaving Reise's blade to dig into the ground. "Where did he go!? I am going to kill that lying trash!" Yeral shouted angrily, to no one in particular. Reise, however, breathed deeply and then shook her head slowly, turning to face Yeral.

"Time and space are distorted in Lordran. Sir Lautrec hails from his own world, it seems, and it has been separated from ours. There's no way to know when we will overlap again..." Reise explained, suddenly sounding very calm. It was amazing how she could regain her composure so easily, Yeral thought. Reise turned and walked over to Anastacia's cell and knelt down, reaching her hand through the bars. Just as Yeral was about to ask what she was doing, she found what she was looking for and stood up. "Fortunately, the guilty always leave traces behind. This orb will take us to Lautrec, if we can find the right location." she said, holding up what looked like a large black eyeball.

* * *

"Sir Lautrec was helpful before, what couldst have driven him to slay that innocent girl?" Priscilla asked uneasily. She had a very upset look on her face, and it was clear that Yeral's account had unnerved her. Yeral shook his head slowly and looked up at Priscilla sadly.

"Greed, desperation, anger, I do not know. But I can tell you that his earlier aid was a facade. He really only wanted souls, I am sure of it." he replied darkly, thinking back to the murderous knight. Priscilla shuddered visibly, and Yeral worried that he was going to scare her off. "At the risk of spoiling my tale, I will say that the black eye orb worked. Sir Lautrec got what he deserved, in the end." he revealed. Priscilla seemed to be comforted by this news, which pleased Yeral.

"Thou hast done good. Such wickedness cannot stand." Priscilla declared with conviction, clearly relieved by this revelation. Yeral, however, grimaced inside his helmet. Something about her words cut into him, as if he were guilty of something himself. He quickly brushed off such a strange feeling and nodded his head. "Ahem... I doth apologize for interrupting again." Priscilla added a moment later, and Yeral simply shook his head.

"Oh, no, it is no trouble at all. Now, where was I?"

* * *

"I, uh, suppose we should go to the bonfire at the Parish instead..." Yeral suggested awkwardly, still overwhelmed by the suddenness of Lautrec's betrayal. Reise nodded curtly, and the two of them set off for the Undead Parish. There was a small tower to the side of the Parish, which contained a bonfire and a blacksmith's shop. Across a stone bridge from the tower was an ancient crumbling fortress, with its iron gates sealed tightly to prevent intrusion. Or, at, least, they had been sealed the last time Yeral was there. With the Bells of Awakening rung, the giant atop the fortress had opened its mighty portcullis, allowing undead to enter and seek their fates.

"Sen's Fortress... I had heard stories of this place..." Reise muttered quietly as the two undead gazed up at the intimidating stronghold before them. Yeral wondered briefly how old Reise must have been, if she had heard of this centuries-old structure, but he decided not to say anything. As they cautiously strode into the fortress, there was a loud click below Yeral's feet. Reise, thinking quickly, tackled Yeral down to the ground, as three arrows whisked above them. Making sure that the trap would not reactivate, Reise stood up and helped Yeral to his feet. "This place must be rigged with traps. We must be on our guard." she said shrewdly, as Yeral looked down at the floor. He saw, just faintly, the outline of the pressure plate that he had triggered, almost indistinguishable from the tiles of the floor.

At that very moment, a low hiss emanated from the depths of the dark chamber, and two hideous creatures skulked out of the shadows. They had human-like bodies, but they were covered in green scales, and sprouting from their necks were enormous serpentine heads. In their hands, the snakemen wielded simple iron bucklers and crude oversized cleavers. Having already had plenty of experience in Lordran, Yeral knew that they must be hostile, and immediately readied his sword. Right as one of the snakemen reared up to strike him with its cleaver, he slashed it widely across the chest with his zweihander. The snake staggered, thrown off balance, as Yeral slashed at it again and again. As he hoisted his blade upwards for the final blow, the serpent warrior regained its stance and quickly sliced its sword at Yeral, mimicking his own move.

Undeterred by the shallow cut, Yeral smashed his sword down with all of his might, forcing the snake downwards face-first onto the floor, where it writhed in pain for a moment before dying. Reise, unfortunately, was not having as much luck, as the snakemen had caught her off guard. The surviving warrior bashed her in the face with its shield and then chomped its huge jaws directly onto her neck. For one agonizing instant, it looked like Reise was doomed, before she jabbed her claymore upwards through the snakeman's jaw. As its teeth relinquished their grip and the snake slumped over, Reise swiftly produced her Estus Flask, its soothing orange liquid mending her bleeding wounds. "Hmph. I am... less than fond of these creatures." she spoke sharply, obviously hoping not to encounter any more.

"This fortress is most likely full of them. If you want my advice, go on the offensive." Yeral responded sincerely. He wasn't intending to mock Reise, he really did want to give her helpful advice. Unfortunately, Reise seemed to take his words the wrong way, and strode past him briskly without a word. As they progressed into the next room, they found themselves standing on a small platform in front of a deep, dark pit. A thin brick bridge stretched out across the chasm, but huge bladed pendulums swung back and forth, making the bridge a treacherous thing indeed. Across the narrow path, a snake warrior saw the two intruders and tried to make its way towards them, weaving carefully between the swinging blades. It mistimed one of its movements, however, and quickly vanished from sight as it was flung into the pit.

"Who designed this place? What purpose do these deadly devices serve? Even the guards of the fortress cannot survive them. Does that not seem unwise?" Yeral asked to no-one in particular. Reise nodded slightly in agreement, but said nothing, her eyes focused on a balcony jutting from the wall. Yeral glanced up to see what she was eyeing, and faintly made out a golden snakeman, which didn't seem to have noticed them yet. Silently, Yeral produced a pair of poison-coated throwing knives from his pouch and hurled them at the snake with all of his might, then quickly ducked back into the hallway with Reise following suit. Judging by its high perch, Yeral had deduced that the serpent had some variety of ranged attack to pick off trespassers, which was proven correct when a bolt of lightning impacted the brick wall where the knights had stood. Not long after, the poison from the knives took effect, and the snake flopped over dead.

"Good thinking, Sir Yeral. I am impressed." Reise said, sounding sincerely pleased. Yeral smiled slightly at the compliment, but Reise had already turned her attention back to the matter at hand. Deciding that there was nothing else to be done, Yeral ran up to the thin bridge and slowly began to make his way across. "Be careful, Sir Yeral!" Reise called out, but Yeral had already stopped in front of the first blade, watching its swings closely. As it reached the peak of its swing, he sprinted past it, and proceeded to do the same with the other blades. At the end of the path was a tricky set, with two pendulums at once, but Yeral dashed through with ease. Behind him, however, he heard a fearful gasp and his heart dropped.

"Reise! Reise!? Are you alright!?" He yelled frantically into the pit, as the loud thudding of Reise's landing echoed throughout the chamber.

"Ugh... I am alive, at least... go on without me..." Reise responded weakly some moments later. Yeral stayed where he was, however, and called back down into the pit.

"I cannot simply abandon you! There must be a way to get you out." he replied, clearly distressed, and feeling just a tiny bit guilty. As he started looking around frantically for a way down into the pit, Reise spoke up again, her voice sounding stronger this time.

"No. Go. I will find my own escape. You must head for the top of the fortress. Our mission is more important than anything." she said calmly. Reluctantly, Yeral turned and slowly marched deeper into the fortress. The rest of Sen's Fortress was very similar to the first two rooms: traps, swinging blades, and snakemen. Yeral had a few close shaves with rolling boulders and a particularly thin bridge, but otherwise the ascent was relatively uneventful. As he emerged at the top of the fortress, he heard a very loud grunt, and suddenly the ground in front of him exploded into flames, which he just narrowly avoided. Looking upwards, he quickly saw the source of the blast, in the form of a giant hurling bombs from atop a tower.

Snaking his way across the rooftop, Yeral eventually found his way to the stairs of the tower, and strolled right up to the giant. The bulky gray giant roared loudly and swung its arms down at Yeral, intending to crush him, only for Yeral to roll swiftly away from its fists. The giant stamped its feet in anger and then rushed with surprising speed at Yeral, flailing its arms back and forth. Yeral just barely managed to stumble his way back into the safety of the stairway before the giant pummeled him to death. Luckily for him, the giant had very little stamina, and simply slumped over to regain its breath from the furious attack. Seizing the opportunity, Yeral dashed over to it and drove the point of his sword into the top of the giant's head, killing it instantly.

"Not as tough as you look, are you?" Yeral asked mockingly, although he quickly stopped himself. One could not afford to get cocky in Lordran, after all. It was only a matter of time before an enemy too tough to defeat arrived. Heading back down the tower, Yeral came across a large archway that he had overlooked before. The arch exited out onto a stone bridge, which in turn led to a large square platform. At the back end of the platform was a massive white wall and an extremely tall humanoid iron statue. Yeral was overcome with an inexplicable feeling of foreboding as he stepped out onto the bridge. About halfway across the bridge, his feelings were justified as the "statue" began to stomp towards him, wielding an axe larger than Yeral in one hand.

The Iron Golem, as it was called, swiped its axe through the air, and something akin to a burst of wind blasted outwards, though Yeral was thankfully just out of its range. Whatever that blast did, it tore up some of the stones on the platform, so it must have been strong. "Thank you Sen's Fortress, today was too easy." Yeral groaned sarcastically, before sprinting head on at the golem. He was hoping to get below its legs where it could not swing its axe, but he was forced to dodge sideways when the golem slammed the mighty blade downwards at him. He sliced at one of the thick iron legs before him, and his sword left a visible scratch, but he did not have time to strike again. The golem scooped its empty hand down and Yeral, a moment too slow to react, was grabbed in its mighty grip. The iron behemoth reared back to slam Yeral into the ground, and he closed his eyes slowly. It was all over, he thought. There was no way he could survive that.

"Metal beast! Drop him at once!" rang out the voice of Lady Reise, sounding more determined than ever. There were the clanking sounds of a blade clashing with iron, and the golem simply dropped Yeral to the floor as it reeled back from multiple hard blows. Yeral opened his eyes slowly and saw Reise's hand extended in front of him, offering to help him up. As he climbed to his feet, he saw that she was holding a long metal staff with a circular blade at the top: the catch-pole of a titanite demon. How she had acquired it, he had no idea, but she held it confidently, far more than she had with her claymore. "There will be time to catch up later, the golem still lives." she said with a slight air of exhilaration.

Whatever magics gave the golem life did not seem to be particularly intelligent, for it was apparently unable to manage two strong targets attacking it. The two knights were able to attack its legs with impunity as it tried to swipe its axe at them. Every time the golem would almost manage to hit one of them, the other would stagger it with their strongest blows. Reise's arrival had completely turned the tide of battle, and the golem soon fell, leaving behind nothing but a glowing magical core. A glowing yellow ring of light appeared in the middle of the platform. Reise reached out to touch it, only for four white bat-like creatures to descend, seemingly out of nowhere, and grab the knights by the arms. They were hoisted into the air by the bat demons and carried over the white wall.

Yeral let out an audible gasp as he saw what was beyond the wall: the shining white city of Anor Londo, in all of its glory. The bat demons dropped the two down safely atop a small tower, and flew off into the distance. In the distance, Yeral could see Anor Londo Cathedral towering above the rest of the city.

* * *

"So that is how thou travel'd to Anor Londo? Most unusual." Priscilla mused. She suspected that Yeral's story might be coming to a close soon. After all, her painting was in the city, how much more could there be to tell?

"Ah yes, Anor Londo. If you are wondering when I found your painting, there are still several stories to go." Yeral said knowingly. The look on Priscilla's face had told him everything. As Priscilla glanced at him, intrigued, he started to continue his story. "As we arrived in Anor Londo, we-"

"Sir Yeral, thou hast told me so many tales already. Might thou permiteth me to share a story of my own?" Priscilla asked politely, and Yeral smiled softly. Of course he would be willing to hear more about her. Besides, he had been speaking for hours at this point, and a break would be very welcome. He nodded enthusiastically, and Priscilla began. "I cannot promise thee adventure, but merely recount how I came to this painted realm."


	6. Paintings and Priscilla

Long ago, before Anor Londo was abandoned, it was a great and prosperous city, thriving with life. Merchants set up stalls along the streets, selling all manner of exotic goods and jewelry. Artisans toiled in their workshops to create great crafts. Even the gods themselves would walk freely among their people, beloved by all. Despite its wondrous exterior, however, the city housed a darker side. Fear of the unknown led to prejudice against that which did not fit in, and there was one who they hated most.

In a dark alley behind a small chapel, Priscilla sat quietly on the ground, her back leaned up against the white brick wall. The alley was spotlessly clean – for, indeed, everything in Anor Londo was – but it was still a rather dreary place, devoid of light. Priscilla was younger then, somewhat shorter, and her white hair barely touched her shoulders. Over her fur coat, she wore a thick black cloak with a hood, no doubt intended to obscure her features. Her stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, jolting her into action. Looking around quickly to see if she had any food left, she sighed as she saw nothing. Hesitantly, Priscilla stood up and pulled the hood over her head, strolling slowly out of the alleyway.

There was a small bakery not far from her alley, so she gradually made her way there. A figure wearing a black cloak in the middle of a sunny day was odd, so Priscilla naturally attracted some stares from passerby. Still, it was better than what she usually dealt with, she thought. Arriving at the bakery, she was instantly taken by the scents of baked goods. It had been quite a while since she had gotten fresh food. Stepping inside, she saw that there was only one other customer, a rich-looking gentleman dressed in fine robes. He was examining various loaves of bread carefully, but didn't seem all that interested in eating anything. Slowly, Priscilla approached the counter.

"I wouldst have one of thine largest loaves, if I may? …..Perchance, a sweetroll as well?" Priscilla asked politely. The baker glanced over at her for a moment before heading back into the back of the bakery. He emerged a moment later, holding a large loaf and a small roll in a basket.

"Two-thousand." he said gruffly. Priscilla reached into her cloak and produced a glowing mass of souls, which she handed over to the baker. As the baker was going to hand her the basket with the bread, he looked up at her for a moment and caught a glimpse of the horns on her face below the hood. "Thou art the dragon witch! I toldeth thou, never come here again!" he roared, brandishing a shortsword from under the counter. Priscilla could have used her powers to kill him on the spot, but that would make her a murderer. Instead, she turned and fled from the store as quickly as she could, leaving her food behind.

Within the hour, Priscilla was back in her alleyway, her head buried in her hands. Now, not only was she hungry, but she was miserable as well. People had hated her and ostracized her all her life, but it was still painful every time. She hadn't chosen to be born that way. Her moping was quickly interrupted, however, by the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked up slowly and saw a man approaching her down the alley. Priscilla was paralyzed with fear as the man stepped into view. To her surprise, it was the rich noble that she had seen at the bakery.

"Ah, I thought thou had come this way. Thou art hungry, no?" the noble said, holding out a basket full of bread. Priscilla recoiled instinctively when the man raised his hand. The noble's eyes softened, and spoke again gently. "I shalt not hurt thee. Be calm." he said, setting the bread down beside Priscilla. True to his word, the man did not seem to bear any hostility. In fact, he didn't even seem to be armed. Priscilla was rather confused. No-one was ever kind to her.

"Who art thou? Doth thou not knoweth who I am?" Priscilla asked him curiously. The man laughed lightly and shook his head.

"I am Lord Ariamis. Perhaps thou hath seen my many works? As for thee, all of Anor Londo knows. Thou art Priscilla the crossbreed." Ariamis explained. Priscilla's eyes widened when she heard the man's name. Ariamis's paintings were legendary, and his name was spoken across the city.

"Why art thou here? …..Did thou runeth out of pompous nobles to paint?" Priscilla asked, with more than a hint of bitterness. Ariamis frowned slightly.

"Thou seemed hungry." he replied sincerely, gesturing to the bread. Priscilla simply stared at him suspiciously. Who knows what might be in that bread? This was obviously some sort of trap. Seeing the look on her face, Ariamis grabbed a roll from the basket and bit into it heartily. "See? No poison. Enjoy thyself!" he said, gesturing to the bread again. Hesitantly, Priscilla grabbed a loaf of bread and devoured it, even hungrier than she had realized.

"I thanketh thee, Lord Ariamis." Priscilla said, suddenly feeling very happy. Ariamis smiled, but then suddenly looked up at the sky.

"Oh dear, the time doth fly! I must take my leave. Wouldst thou let me visit again tomorrow?" Ariamis asked politely. Priscilla nodded heartily as she enjoyed yet another piece of bread. Without further ado, Ariamis turned and strode out of the alley.

Ariamis would come to visit Pricilla every day from then on, bringing interesting stories about upper-class life. For her part, Priscilla preferred to listen rather than speak. Eventually, after many weeks, Ariamis invited Priscilla to visit his home. He said that he had been working on something special, just for her.

As she arrived at Ariamis's home, Pricilla was taken aback by its size. She knew that Ariamis was a rich man, but his home was quite the mansion indeed. Stepping inside, she saw to her surprise that the interior was actually quite messy. Art supplies were strewn about, and splotches of paint lined the walls and floor. Blank canvasses sat stacked in corners, gathering dust. Priscilla slowly made her way into the main hall of the mansion, and was suddenly stunned by the sight she saw. In the center of the hall sat an enormous painting of a winter landscape, with Ariamis kneeling below it, seemingly adding some finishing touches. Hearing Priscilla's approach, he quickly turned around to face her, beaming.

"Ah, Lady Priscilla! Thou made it! Doth thou like thou painting?" he asked, motioning towards the painted landscape. Priscilla's jaw dropped, and she stammered for a moment.

"This painting... thou made it for me? Truly?" she asked, shocked. This was a generous gesture indeed, so much that Priscilla was overcome by it. Ariamis nodded cheerfully, and produced a small doll from his pocket. Priscilla tilted her head curiously, as Ariamis began to explain.

"Tis no mere painting, for I hath enchanted it. Clutcheth tightly to this doll, and thou shalt be drawn into the lands of yonder painting. If thou art ever in need of a safe place..." he elaborated, handing the doll to Priscilla, who was still somewhat overwhelmed. "Oh, wouldst thou care to stay with me? I doth have a spare bed." Ariamis added.

"Of course! I hath not had a bed in ages! Truly, Lord Ariamis, thou art too kind." Priscilla replied, smiling excitedly. True to his word, Ariamis allowed Priscilla to live with him, though she dared not venture outside of his home. Still, his house was far nicer than a dingy alleyway, and she never had to worry about running out of food. For the first time in her life, Priscilla felt like a normal girl. This must have been what life was like for everyone else in Anor Londo.

Unfortunately, her happiness could not last. Rumors began to spread amongst Ariamis's neighbors that he was sheltering the hated crossbreed. More importantly, however, the gods of Anor Londo had learned of her lifehunt ability. Early one morning, just as Priscilla began to awaken, there came a knocking on the door. Opening the door slowly, Ariamis saw a Silver Knight captain standing before him, armor glinting in the sunlight.

"Lord Ariamis, I doth seeketh the crossbreed girl. Rumor says that thou art keeping her here." the Silver Knight said authoritatively. Ariamis frowned and crossed his arms.

"Since when, may I ask thee, did the servants of the gods heed rumor?" he asked coolly, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. The Silver Knight stepped forward intimidatingly, but Ariamis did not falter.

"Her powers hath been deemed a threat to the safety of our great city. She shalt be held indefinitely until a verdict can be reached. Doth thou knoweth her location?" the Silver Knight asked harshly. Ariamis shook his head, but at the moment, Priscilla, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, tripped and came into view. "Ah ha! Stay where thou art, crossbreed!" the Knight commanded, shoving his way past Ariamis and dashing towards Priscilla. Without thinking about it, Priscilla clasped her hands together in fear, and out of nowhere appeared a vicious razor-sharp scythe, as if it had been drawn from her very soul.

Seeing that Priscilla had a weapon, the Silver Knight drew his sword and slashed at Priscilla quickly. She jumped out of the way of the slash and, instinctively, swung her enormous scythe through the air. As the blade sliced through the air, it channeled Priscilla's lifehunt power, leaving a deep bleeding gash on the knight, who collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Priscilla looked down at her hands in shock.

"It seems... even the gods doth despise me. I truly have no place in this world." she said shakily, trying to fight back tears. Ariamis stood in the doorway, stunned by what had happened, before running over to Priscilla. "Goodbye, Lord Ariamis." Priscilla said sadly, clutching the doll that Ariamis had given her tightly. As Ariamis stretched out his hand to her, she was gone in a flash, transported into the realm of the painting, where she would remain for all time.


	7. Ornstein and Smough

"For all time...? Then you intend to remain here forever? That is a lonely existence indeed..." Yeral spoke softly as Priscilla finished her story. He had remained silent up until now, as the crossbreed shared a glimpse of her past. Priscilla simply stared at him sadly, and for a long while they sat in absolute silence. Yeral had been curious about Priscilla before, but now he felt nothing but pity. Her life was an unhappy one. In fact, Yeral suspected that, if anything, she had downplayed her misery for his sake. "Thank you for sharing that, Lady Priscilla, that could not have been easy to say." he said eventually. To his surprise, Priscilla smiled gently.

"No, I thanketh thee for listening. I hath needed to speak my ills." Priscilla replied lightly. Yeral could tell that she was still upset, but he decided not to pry. "Truly, Sir Yeral, I feel as though I can trusteth thee." she continued. This comment sent a sliver of guilt into Yeral's heart... after all, he was still hiding something from her... but he quickly shook it off. Priscilla saw the change in Yeral's attitude and furrowed her brow slightly in worry. Was something troubling the young knight? Seeing her staring at him, Yeral quickly changed the subject.

"Ahem! Now where were we...? Oh yes, Anor Londo, of course. How fitting that we have another tale from that city, no?" he said, hoping that Priscilla would care to hear the next installment of his adventures. To his relief, the way that her eyes lit up told him that she did.

* * *

Yeral and Reise stared up at the massive doors of the enormous cathedral in front of them. Just moments before, they had finished dispatching the two bronze sentinels that flanked the doors. They had already battled several of these silent guardians on their way to the cathedral, and they were mighty opponents indeed, though still far weaker than the Iron Golem. Other than the sentinels, the path to the cathedral was relatively uneventful, save for a short detour into the chapel that housed Priscilla's painting.

Oddly, even though they had been in Anor Londo for some hours, the sun had not moved at all in the sky. It was like the entire city was bathed in perpetual daylight. The two knights had noticed this fact, but shrugged it off as some sort of magic. Yeral glanced down off the side of the platform that they stood upon. The city was built so high up, he could not even see the ground below him, just a layer of thick fog. What a nightmare it would be to fall, he thought to himself. He was broken out of this stupor by the sound of Reise's voice.

"Damn it all! The doors are locked tight!" she exclaimed loudly, pounding her fist into the heavy door. Yeral sighed lowly, he wasn't sure why he had expected anything different. Not just anyone could waltz into the home of the gods. Of course, speaking of gods, thus far the city had been strangely empty, as if all the people had simply left. Reise was still swearing angrily under her breath as Yeral looked around for another way in.

"Look, over there! Is that a balcony?" he asked, pointing around to the right side of the cathedral. Reise squinted, and saw that Yeral was right. Jutting out of the side of the building, just barely visible, was a small balcony. And if there was a balcony, then there must be an entrance. "And look, a thin walkway that leads right to it! What luck!" Yeral exclaimed excitedly. He was rather proud of himself for spotting the alternative route. Reise wasn't quite so happy – the path looked quite precarious to her – but she decided to head towards it anyway.

Walking down some steps onto a lower level, the two knights saw that it was not so much a bridge as a series of wide archways which lead up to a thin railing on the side of the cathedral, which in turn lead to the balcony. Still, it was the only option they had at this point. Cautiously, Reise stepped out onto the first arch, with Yeral following not far behind. Slowly walking upwards, they saw a large pillar in the middle of the two archways. Yeral heard some odd sounds, like clanking metal, but otherwise the climb to the midpoint was uneventful. Slowly making their way around the central pillar, Reise suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Yeral rounded the corner behind her, and his blood froze.

Standing at the end of the second archway, atop the thin railing leading to the balcony, were two Silver Knights, staring coldly down at the two intruders. In their hands, the Silver Knights held massive bows, as tall as they were, and they had quivers of long javelin-like arrows on their backs. Clearly, someone had anticipated intruders trying to use this method of entry, and stationed guards on the treacherous paths. Yeral and Reise both knew that one shot from those knights would send them hurtling into the chasm below. Slowly, both knights drew arrows from their quivers and nocked them on their bows. As the knights took aim, Reise sprung into action, sprinting up the archway as fast as she could.

Yeral shook off his surprise and chased after her, as the knights loosed their arrows. Reise ducked quickly as one of the silver arrows sailed over her head, impacting into the wall behind her. Yeral heard a whooshing sound as the second arrow narrowly flew past his head. The knights prepared to fire again, this time more quickly, as Yeral and Reise approached the top. As one of the knights shot again, Yeral saw the arrows hurtling towards him, and instinctively raised his shield. The arrow bounced off of the hard metal shield, but the force of the impact sent Yeral staggering back, and he slipped off the side of the archway. At the last moment, he caught the edge with his hands, hanging on for dear life. The second archer aimed its bow directly at him, and he closed his eyes... but the shot never came.

Reise had reached the railing, and with a mighty kick, she sent one of the knights falling downwards off of the ledge. The second knight turned its bow at Reise, who had nowhere to dodge on the thin railing. Pulling himself up as quick as he could, Yeral saw as the second knight drew back its bow, and dashed as fast as he could up the archway. He leaped at the Silver Knight with all of his strength, tackling it back into the wall. The knight staggered from the force of being smashed into hard brick, with Yeral essentially pinning it to the wall. The knight struggled with Yeral, trying to push him off of the thin ledge, but Yeral unexpectedly ducked his head. A moment later, Reise's catch pole swung down and smashed the knight in the head, causing it to disintegrate into white sparkles. Yeral almost lost his balance, but Reise grabbed the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up onto the railing.

Together, they carefully made their way around to the balcony, which had a small doorway leading into a long hallway. Thankfully, a side room just past the entrance contained a bonfire, where the two knights rested and regained their breath. The inside of the cathedral was very dark, with no light sources asides from small windows and the crackling bonfire. Still, despite the darkness, the building was not at all dank or dingy. Even after centuries of being empty, the white bricks were still absolutely spotless, and the wooden furniture showed no signs of rot or decay. In fact, there was not even a speck of dust to be seen.

"It is unnaturally clean... something is not right here." Yeral said uneasily as he and Reise stood up from the bonfire. Reise looked at him curiously. Obviously, she hadn't observed her surroundings like he had.

"Hmm. Probably just the magic of the gods. After all, the princess of sunlight would not live in a dirty shack..." Reise said flippantly, but Yeral wasn't so sure. He felt as though something was being hidden from him, almost like a strange dream. Still, there was no time to linger on such things. "Well, we should move on. There must be some way to the Princess's chambers from here." Reise spoke confidently, but Yeral was still on edge. As they stepped out into the dark hallway, he half expected some sort of grotesque monster to attack them, but nothing did. Asides from their clanking footsteps, there was nothing but silence.

The inside of the cathedral was sprawling, but it was not an especially dangerous area compared to the hazardous archways leading to it. There were a few Silver Knights scattered about, and at one point Yeral and Reise had to make their way across a rooftop, but it was otherwise uneventful until they reached the main hall. The central chamber of the cathedral was split into two sections, with one massive hallway leading to stairs up into another equally-gigantic room. Yeral noticed that the floor tiles here were far more intricate, with white-and-black marble designs covering the floor. Wide white pillars stretched upwards to the vaulted ceiling hundreds of feet above. Behind them stood the ornate iron doors that had impeded their progress earlier, still sealed tightly, though there was a large lever nearby to open them.

While Yeral admired the scenery, Reise had trudged onwards towards the stairway, clearly intent on reaching her objective. Shaking his head slightly at her impatience, Yeral jogged after her to keep up. Reise turned back to look at him for a moment before pointing forwards.

"If there is any way to reach the princess, it would be beyond here, I would think." she explained. Yeral nodded. Reise's theory made sense, after all, this was the central hall of the cathedral. As the two knights strode confidently up the stairs, they saw that the second room of the hall was lined with glass windows, light brightly by the eternal sunlight. "Of course it would not be unguarded..." Reise muttered with frustration. Yeral understood the sentiment, for he was feeling something similar.

Standing before them, at the back of the large room, was a hefty, rotund figure in golden armor, hoisting an equally-large hammer. Above the weighty warrior was a balcony overlooking the room, where a lanky fellow in lion-themed armor stood, a long spear held in one hand. The two opponents glanced at each other, and then glared intently at the intruders.

"My, my, Ornstein! We have little rats sneaking about!" the fat guardian exclaimed, followed by a deranged chuckle. "What say we squash them?" he asked tauntingly. The lion knight sighed slightly to himself and looked down at Yeral and Reise.

"I see no rats, Smough, but instead proud warriors. They must be mighty indeed to make it this far." Ornstein said sternly. Smough muttered angrily to himself about how he hated being scolded, but Ornstein ignored him. "I am afraid, however, that your journey ends here. No undead shall pass while we live." he continued, addressing Yeral and Reise now. Yeral was half-tempted to groan in annoyance, the dogged guardian routine was getting old, but he kept it to himself.

"Stop yapping and get on with it!" Smough snapped irritably, raising his hammer. Grudgingly, Ornstein hopped down from the balcony and landed with a clank next to his overweight partner. He readied his spear as Yeral and Reise prepared their own weapons. Ornstein thrust his spear forwards at the air, and somehow propelled himself across the floor at rapid speed, practically flying at Reise, who just narrowly avoided being skewered. Smough, meanwhile, held the head of his hammer up in front of his chest, braced his legs, and barreled across the room at Yeral like an angry bull. Yeral tried to jump out of the way, but to his surprise, Smough swung his hammer sideways at the last moment, smashing it into Yeral.

Yeral flew backwards at least twenty feet and landed on the floor in a lump. His whole body ached from the force of the blow, and he was amazed that he survived at all. Reise was faring better, dancing around Ornstein's sweeps and stabs with relative ease, though she didn't seem to have landed a hit on him yet. Smough chuckled lowly to himself and raised his hammer up, intending to pound Yeral into paste. Yeral forced himself to move as the huge golden hammerhead slammed down, and climbed to his feet as Smough slowly hefted the hammer back up. Seeing that the pudgy warrior was encumbered by the weight of his weapon, Yeral quickly gulped down the contents of his Estus Flask, his vitality restored instantly.

Smough swung his hammer sideways clumsily, but he failed to brace himself properly, and was taken slightly off balance by the heavy swing. Seizing the opportunity, Yeral rolled towards Smough and swung down with his greatsword, cutting a deep gash into Smough's armor. Compared to Ornstein's smooth, skillful motions, it was obvious that Smough lacked finesse and relied solely on his strength to see him through. Smough leaped up into the air, trying to use his considerable weight to crush Yeral, but Yeral simply dodged behind him, striking at Smough's back several times before Smough was able to regain his balance.

Reise, unfortunately, was not having as much luck. Every time she tried to strike at Ornstein, he would jump out of the way, often retaliating with strikes of his own. Reise had not been seriously injured yet, but she had suffered several small cuts when she wasn't quite able to dodge Ornstein's attacks completely. The lion knight lacked the raw might of his partner, but he more than made up for it in swiftness and agility. Ornstein jumped up in the air and flew forwards at Reise, his spear held in front of him, with quite a bit of force behind the stab. Reise rolled to the side and slashed sideways at Ornstein with her catch pole. To her pleasure, the circular blade finally made contact, cutting a neat line across Ornstein's side. However, he swiftly retaliated, blindsiding Reise with a lightning-fast sweep that cut clean through her helmet, leaving a large bleeding cut across her face.

Knowing that she was in danger, Reise backed away from Ornstein as quickly as she could, hoping for an opportunity to heal her wounds. Thankfully, the perfect chance presented itself, in the form of an ear-splitting crash, as Smough's heavy body fell to the floor. Yeral stood above his fallen foe, only to be roughly shoved aside by Knight Ornstein, who had dashed over to his comrade. As Reise drank Estus to heal her wounds, Ornstein placed his hand solemnly upon Smough's corpse.

"You and I did not see eye-to-eye, Smough. In many ways, you repulsed me... but I still respect your strength." Ornstein said quietly. In that moment, his body was suffused with a strange yellow glow, as if magical power were flowing into him. "Now grant me some of that strength, so you may be avenged!" Ornstein roared. The power of Smough's unique soul was absorbed into Ornstein's body, and suddenly he grew, larger and larger, until he was nearly as tall as the Iron Golem. Grabbing his now-colossal spear, Ornstein turned to face the two knights, who simply stood there stunned.

Ornstein thrust his spear forward again, and a huge blast of crackling yellow lighting shot out, scorching the ground right next to Yeral, who had been yanked out of the way by Reise. Ornstein quickly followed up by swinging the spear downwards. The force of the blow shook the floor, but Yeral and Reise narrowly managed to avoid it. Reise swiped at Ornstein's leg with her catch pole, as Yeral simultaneously plowed his greatsword into Ornstein's other knee. Ornstein stumbled slightly from the heavy blows, but swept his spear widely in front of him, knocking Reise backwards into a pillar.

Yeral managed to slip underneath the broad stroke of Ornstein's spear, and struck again at the lion knight's legs. Hopefully, Ornstein would die from having his ankles cut, he thought. Ornstein charged up his spear with electricity and reared back, but this time instead of shooting a bolt of lightning, he rammed the speartip downwards. Yeral, not expecting this move, was stabbed hard in the chest by the huge spear and hoisted up in the air, the electric current surging through his body. Yeral howled in agony as Ornstein casually dropped him on the ground and turned his attention back to Reise...

Or at least, he looked at where Reise had been moments before, but now she was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Ornstein felt a searing pain in his leg, as Reise embedded her weapon into it. Ornstein fell over, his ankle completely destroyed. Yeral, limping and bleeding profusely, but still alive, staggered to his feet right as Ornstein's head landed next to him. Slowly, Yeral hefted his heavy greatsword upwards. He hardly had the strength to lift it, but the weight of the sword was enough, cutting down through Ornstein's helmet, causing the knight to explode into a shower of silver light. That was the last that Yeral saw before he blacked out from the pain.


	8. Abyss and Revelations

"Thou defeated Sir Ornstein? Captain of the Four Knights? His skills art legendary..." Priscilla said, looking at Yeral with a sense of awe. Everyone in Anor Londo had heard the tales of Ornstein's bravery and power. He had stood by Gwyn's side since before Lordran was founded, aiding in the war against the dragons. Of course, Priscilla wasn't sure how she felt about dragon slaying, but it was an impressive feat nonetheless. Sir Yeral must be mighty indeed... assuming the story was true.

"Well, I cannot claim all the credit. If Reise had not been there, I surely would have perished." Yeral said quickly, sounding slightly unsure of himself. This modesty only further convinced Priscilla that he was telling the truth. If he were boasting, he wouldn't admit to needing help. Although, there was still a lingering question that had been nagging at Priscilla's mind...

"Where is Lady Reise? What hath become of her?" she asked curiously. From the way Yeral had acted before, she suspected that something unfortunate had befallen the knight. Yet, in all of Yeral's tales, Reise was still alive and well. Yeral looked down at the ground, saying nothing. Priscilla frowned slightly. What was the knight hiding from her? "Please, Sir Yeral, I asketh thee. Hath a tragedy occurred?" she said gently, placing her hand on Yeral's shoulder.

Yeral's eyes were shut tight, as if he were trying not to think about it. He was thankful that Priscilla could not see his face, now more than ever. He knew that the crossbreed was well-meaning, that she only wanted the truth. Slowly, he brushed her hand off his shoulder, shaking his head. As Priscilla looked at him worriedly, Yeral spoke up sadly.

"Reise is gone." he muttered quietly, looking up at Priscilla's face. Priscilla said nothing – that had been the response she expected. The two sat together in silence for a long time, each contemplating the scenario in their heads. Priscilla was curious about why Yeral seemed so keen to hide the details from her. Yeral was debating back and forth as to whether or not he should tell her. Eventually, Yeral slowly stood up and turned away. He couldn't tell her. Besides, there was really no reason for him to stick around the Painted World anymore. Right as he was about to start walking away, however, he felt a strong tug on his sleeve.

"Sir Yeral. Hath I ever been dishonest with thee?" Priscilla spoke sharply, sounding rather hurt. It was a rhetorical question – both she and Yeral knew that the answer was no. Yeral stopped in his tracks, but still refused to turn around. "Why art thou so determined to obscureth the truth?" she pressed him. Pricilla didn't want to be rude, but she was very bothered by Yeral's suddenly shifty attitude. Before this, he had been eager to tell her about himself. Why was he so determined to keep secrets now? Yeral gradually looked upwards at the sky, trying to find the right words to say.

"...Because I do not want you to hate me." He admitted eventually. Priscilla's face softened, and she walked towards Yeral, who slowly turned around to face her. Priscilla wasn't quite sure how to respond to that statement. Why would she ever want to hate him? What could have happened to Reise, that would ever be that bad? "After the fight with Ornstein and Smough, I awoke back at Firelink Shrine. Reise had obtained the sacred Lordvessel, and we were supposed to fill it with four powerful souls. The Four Kings of New Londo, Seath the Scaleless in the Duke's Archives, Gravelord Nito deep in the Tomb of Giants, and the Witch of Izalith in her lost city. With these four souls, we could meet our fates at last..." Yeral began.

* * *

Yeral and Reise had gone their separate ways again, each one of them seeking a different Lord Soul. Reise had returned to Anor Londo to seek out the Duke's Archives, where Seath made his lair. Yeral had delved below Firelink to the undead city of New Londo, home of the dreaded Four Kings. According to legend, the once-thriving city had been swallowed up by a vile black magic called The Abyss, which only the Knight Artorias had ever seen and lived to tell about it.

Before they parted ways, Reise had given Yeral a ring that, she said, had once belonged to Artorias, though she refused to say how she had obtained it. Supposedly, the magical power of the ring would protect Yeral from the Abyss's corrosive influence. At first, however, he saw no black abyss when he entered New Londo, but rather a vast lake with crumbled brick buildings jutting from its surface. Still, New Londo was an awful place.

The slippery, wet brick and the narrow wooden bridges made even traversing the ruins a nightmare, and the residents only made things worse. The former inhabitants of New Londo had been twisted into horrible ghouls that desired nothing more than to sink their wicked knives into living flesh. As Yeral made his way through the dank ruins, the bleakness of the area really started to get to him. There was nothing here but ghosts and slimy buildings, cloaked in darkness, with the ever-present threat of plunging into a watery grave. Yeral had thought that Blighttown was the worst place he had visited, but this was far worse. It was like living in a literal nightmare. Worst of all, however, was the fact that there were no signs of the Four Kings anywhere. How could he reach them if they were buried under tons of water?

Thankfully, the answer presented itself as he emerged out onto the roof of one of the larger buildings. Standing at the far end of the roof, gazing out over the lake, was a man dressed all in red robes, with a pointed red hood and a strange iron mask. Hearing Yeral's footsteps behind him, he turned around to greet his visitor.

"Welcome to New Londo. I am Ingward, guardian of the seal." he introduced himself warmly. The wheeze in Ingward's voice told Yeral that he was very old. He had likely been overseeing New Londo since before its destruction.

"Nice to meet you, Ingward. Can you help me?" Yeral replied, relieved to see a friendly face in the miserable ruins.

"I assume you seek the Four Kings? Oh yes, bearer of the Lordvessel, I will help you open the seal." Ingward said immediately. He had been waiting for the chosen undead for a very long time. He was eager for his task to be done.

"What is this seal you mention?" Yeral asked, sounding rather puzzled. Ingward pointed off into the distance. Yeral squinted, and faintly made out a massive iron floodgate, no doubt keeping all of the water trapped within the city.

"There is a mechanism that is locked behind a gate. It will open that great seal, emptying the water into the valley beyond. Then you will be able to reach the Kings in the depths of the city." Ingward explained helpfully. Yeral nodded, as Ingward reached into his robe. He produced a small silver key and handed it to Yeral. "This key will allow you to access the seal. But be careful when you descend into the lower ruins. The Four Kings, and their servants the darkwraiths, reside in a black void called the Abyss." Ingward warned, but Yeral shook his head.

"I already know of the Abyss. I bear a magic ring from Knight Artorias that will grant me safe passage." he explained. Ingward patted him on the shoulder.

"Then the best of luck to you." he said as Yeral turned and walked away.

Opening the seal was a simple matter now that Yeral had the key. All he had to do was reach the building where the mechanism was, unlock the gate, and turn the crank. The great floodgates creaked open, and thousands upon thousands of gallons of water surged outwards into the Valley of Drakes, draining the lower levels of New Londo. From there, Yeral was able to delve into the bowels of the waterlogged town to confront the Four Kings in the Abyss.

There seemed to be few ghosts in the bottom half of New Londo, but this was not much of a comfort, for it was teeming with darkwraiths instead. The darkwraiths were tall, formerly-human warriors that wore odd skeleton-themed armor and carried large black broadswords. They were fearsome opponents with the ability to drain the humanity from Yeral's body, but he was eventually able to fight them off. As he brushed darkwraith blood off of his armor, Yeral looked about and saw a large round tower with a staircase inside spiraling downwards. Entering the tower, he looked down and saw that the staircase eventually vanished into empty blackness.

"This must be the Abyss..." he muttered quietly to himself, before jumping down through the center of the tower. He fell for several seconds, before landing safely in the bottom of the Abyss. It was an empty black void, with no discernible walls, ceiling, or even floor. In fact, it looked like it stretched on infinitely in all directions. Yeral was rather disoriented as he slowly walked around, unable to see what he was stepping on. After a few tense moments, a chilling shriek rang out, echoing in the nothingness, as a large silvery wraith materialized from thin air.

The creature seemed as if its body was composed of scraps of silver cloth, with one visible arm holding a strange spiky sword, and a jagged crown on its head. Clearly, this odd being was one of the Four Kings. The King swiftly flew over towards Yeral, hovering a few feet off the ground. Yeral raised his shield as the king slashed horizontally with its sword, only to find that the magical blade phased right through the shield. In fact, the blade passed all the way through Yeral's body as if it were a ghost. Thankfully, it did not leave a physical cut, but the magical energy burned where it touched. Yeral knew that he would have to dodge its strikes from now on.

The king raised its sword upwards and then quickly sliced it down, but Yeral rolled to the side and struck the silver monster hard with his greatsword. The king slowly turned to face him, and Yeral noticed that it seemed to have trouble maneuvering. Suddenly, the king rammed sideways at Yeral, trying to grab him in empty hole where its other arm should have been. Yeral hastily jumped backwards and smashed his sword down into the king's head. In retaliation, the king held its arm close in front of it, its hand glowing with magical power, which it released a moment later in the form of a powerful burst of energy. Yeral, unable to get far enough away, was thrown backwards hard, his body sizzling.

At that moment, a familiar shriek rang out and another king appeared some distance away. Yeral staggered to his feet, only to quickly roll out of the way of a magical blast that the second king had fired from afar. Acting quickly, he drew a firebomb from his pouch and hurled it at the first king's head. The king reeled back as its face was engulfed in flames, giving Yeral the opportunity to drive his sword into it. The king shrieked again, this time sounding pained, before exploding into white light, as Yeral turned his attention towards the second king. Oddly, the kings seemed to share some sort of hivemind, because the second king fought exactly the same as the first. Similarly, partway through fighting it, a third king appeared. The same happened again when the second king died and Yeral turned his attention towards the third. Eventually, however, Yeral was able to outlast them by dodging their strikes, though he had to chug several times from his Estus Flask. As the last king dissipated, a brilliant yellow soul appeared, which Yeral hastily grabbed. This must be the Lord Soul he had come for. At that moment, an unfamiliar voice rang out...

"Well done. Well done indeed." said the low, raspy voice. Yeral quickly turned around and saw an odd gray serpent emerging from the darkness behind him. The creature had large red eyes and square, yellow teeth that clacked as it spoke. "I am pleased that you made it this far. I have been keeping an eye on you."

"Who... who are you?" Yeral asked uncertainly. There was something very unnerving about the serpent, but it seemed to be non-hostile for the moment. The serpent grinned at his question (a frightening sight indeed).

"I am Kaathe, one of the Primordial Serpents. But the really important one here is you... dark lord." Kaathe explained smoothly. Yeral was puzzled by what the serpent called him, but before he could ask, Kaathe began to elaborate. "Oh yes, you bear the Dark Soul, the last of the Lord Souls, and the most powerful by far. The Dark Soul was first held by the furtive pygmy, but it seems he has passed it on to you. This gives you a very special destiny indeed... would you care to hear it?"

"Yes." Yeral responded immediately. He had never heard of the pygmy or the Dark Soul, but he still wanted to know what the serpent had to say.

"The so-called gods have been leading you to link the fire, perpetuating the current age... at the cost of humanity. That is the supposed 'fate of the undead'. But you have another option. If you let the fire die, then you can use your darkness to usher in a golden age for humanity. No gods, no curses, no fire. A glorious Age of Dark, with you as its leader." Kaathe said, clearly trying to entice Yeral to follow his plan. Yeral, however, scowled and looked around.

"Hmph. The dark does not look so glorious to me." he said suspiciously. Kaathe, however, did not even drop his unnerving smile in the face of Yeral's scrutiny. The serpent looked back and forth between the Abyss and Yeral before he spoke again.

"What happened here was a failure. The Four Kings and their pitiful servants could not contain the power of their humanity, and it consumed them. You have the strength to succeed where they failed." Kaathe replied silkily, hoping to play off Yeral's ego. Yeral thought about it in silence for several moments. Kaathe leaned forward, right up to Yeral's face. "Well, what do you say? Form a covenant with me, usher this world into a new life, and get all the humanity you'll ever need!" Kaathe insisted, staring intently at the nervous Yeral. "Oh, and decide quickly. Your little friend has been taking advice from a serpent too, but she wants to light the fire. Will you show her the error of her ways?" he added. Finally, Yeral made his decision.

"...I will. Form the covenant, I will bring the darkness this world needs."


	9. Unpleasantries and Oolacile

"So this orb will allow me to hunt other undead for their humanity? Are you certain that is a good thing?" Yeral asked, looking down at the large crimson eyeball that Kaathe had given him. Attacking people didn't sound like the type of thing a noble knight was supposed to do, but surely Kaathe had a good reason for it, he told himself. The primordial serpent chuckled and slithered in a circle around Yeral, clacking his teeth.

"Bah. The undead that you will be slaying are fools who are trying to link the fire. To succeed in that goal would mean an eternity of burning... Really, killing them now is a kindness, and besides, you will need all the power you can get, Dark Lord. Regrettable as it may be, power does not come without... sacrifices." Kaathe answered a moment later, clearly formulating his response in a way that would satisfy Yeral. To his credit, Kaathe was a smooth talker, and he did a very good job of making himself sound sincere. Yeral, however, was not quite convinced, and simply looked up at the serpent questioningly, wondering what benefit there could be to Kaathe's plan. As if he had read Yeral's mind, Kaathe opened his mouth and spat out a glowing black wisp of humanity. "Come now, have a taste of the power of the dark. With this, you can make the world a better place." he insisted.

Hesitantly, Yeral reached out and crushed the floating humanity in his fist, the smoky black energy flowing into his body. Instantly, Yeral felt his body rejuvenating from the power of the humanity. All of his aches and pains were gone, and even his skin felt softer. Slowly, he pulled off one of his metal gauntlets and stared at his hand. Instead of the shriveled, rotted hand of an undead, Yeral saw smooth human flesh. He was hollowing no more. Kaathe grinned wider than ever as Yeral gazed at himself in awe. "This effect is only temporary, but if you collected enough humanity and extinguished the First Flame... the whole world could be freed from its curse!" Kaathe exclaimed.

"Thank you, Kaathe. I understand now. I am ready to begin hunting as a Darkwraith." Yeral said with a sudden burst of conviction. He was no longer unsure of himself, now he knew exactly what he needed to do. "I will gather as much humanity as I can. Once Reise has obtained the other Lord Souls, all I have to do is prevent her from linking the fire." he explained, to Kaathe's delight. Deep down, Yeral felt a bit odd about what he was saying, but he quickly brushed off such feelings. There was no time for doubt, not now that he had a purpose of his own. Kaathe leaned very close to him – almost uncomfortably so – and spoke again, sounding very pleased indeed.

"Well then, no time to waste! Don your new armaments, Dark Lord, and let none escape your grasp!"

* * *

"Thou hunted other undead!? That is horrible! What kind of knight art thee!?" Priscilla exclaimed, aghast. She had jumped to her feet and backed away from Yeral, holding her scythe defensively in front of her. As Yeral had recounted the events leading towards joining the Darkwraiths, Priscilla had become increasingly concerned. By the time Yeral had stopped talking, she seemed very upset indeed. Yeral said nothing for a long time, looking down at the ground in shame. "I trusted thou! How many lives didst thou endeth? How many!?" Priscilla demanded angrily, her voice echoing throughout the painted world.

"...Several. Ten, at least." Yeral admitted eventually, still refusing to look up at Priscilla's face. Priscilla gasped in horror. All this time, Yeral had been deceiving her completely. The brave knight who told her tales of heroic adventure did not exist. Instead, sitting before her was a selfish, murderous undead, who only undertook his quest for his own benefit. Priscilla felt betrayed, she had placed a lot of trust in Yeral, the only person that she had trusted since Ariamis. But now, she wasn't even sure if anything that he had told her was true. "Please understand, I only did what I thought was necessary..." Yeral said weakly, but even he wasn't entirely certain whether that was really true. Priscilla glared at him coldly and pointed to her right, where a large plank jutted from the side of the structure.

"Tis time for thou to leave. Jumpeth down from that plank, and hurry home." Priscilla commanded icily. Anger like this was something that Priscilla had not felt in a long time. She was utterly furious at Yeral now, and just wanted him out of her sight. Slowly, Yeral stood up and started to walk towards the plank, but stopped abruptly and turned around. Priscilla simply glared as Yeral spoke up slowly.

"If I could undo what I did, I would. They never should have died because of my selfishness, and nothing I ever do will make up for that. I realized how wrong I was after... after what happened to Reise. Just know that I am, so, so sorry." Yeral murmured sadly, choking up as he spoke. Priscilla crossed her arms, but her gaze softened slightly. Now she was feeling very conflicted because, on one hand, Yeral had done terrible things. On the other hand, he did seem to be legitimately repentant. After a moment, Priscilla realized one of the things that Yeral had said...

"What, precisely, happened to Lady Reise?" she asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at Yeral. Yeral looked down at the floor again, clearly upset.

"Something horrible. Something worse than death."

* * *

Yeral stood in Firelink Shrine, placing a wisp of humanity in his pouch, having just got done hunting down another undead. He had traded out his knight's armor for the uniform of a Darkwraith, a thick silver plate mail with white engravings patterned like bones. Covering his face was a silver skull-shaped mask and a raggedy black hood. The sinister skeletal armor seemed more robust than Yeral's standard knight plate, though not as sturdy as the elite knight set that he would obtain later. Along with the massive greatsword on his back, he had a darkwraith's black broadsword hanging at his hip.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of armored footfalls behind him, and quickly turned around, startled. Standing there uncertainly was none other than Reise, looking the same as ever. He hand clutched her catch pole tightly, not recognizing Yeral in his new armor.

"Ah, Reise! Good to see you!" Yeral exclaimed. He wasn't really especially thrilled to see Reise yet – he was, after all, working against her now, but he didn't want her to know that. Reise stumbled back in surprise.

"...Sir Yeral? Is that you? I was looking for you. ….What are you wearing?" Reise asked tentatively. Realizing that his ominous armor probably looked very strange to her, Yeral quickly tried to think up an excuse, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh... Um... I found this in a building in New Londo, and my old armor got damaged badly by the Four Kings. This set is a bit morbid for my tastes, but I was in dire need of a replacement." Yeral bluffed quickly. To his relief, Reise simply nodded. She noticed that he was acting slightly odd, but decided that it was probably nothing.

"Well, I am glad to see that you made it out alive anyway. I had similar luck in the Duke's Archives, though Seath was quite a tricky beast indeed." Reise said, producing a glowing orange Lord Soul from her pouch. Yeral showed her the Four Kings' soul in return, and both knights nodded contently. "Anyway, that isn't the reason I was looking for you. I decided to explore the Darkroot Basin – not far from the Undead Parish – and I found something. Something you need to see." Reise explained, pointing towards the elevator leading up to the Parish. Yeral was rather curious about what Reise had found. Trying to spread the darkness could wait a little while, he decided, and trudged after Reise as she set off.

Darkroot Basin, as it turned out, was a dark wooded grove with a lake in the center. Green, mossy trees dotted the area and vines snaked their way across the pitch-black soil. Oddly, it seemed to become night time the moment that Yeral and Reise entered the basin, with the full moon shining brightly in the sky. Yeral put this sudden shift of time towards Lordran's distorted nature, and thought nothing of it. Reise led Yeral down the dark hill towards the bank of the lake. Arriving at the clear, deep water, Yeral saw a thin bank, half-submerged in ankle-deep water, wrapping around to the left. Without further ado, Reise splashed right into the shallows and trudged along the waterlogged path. Yeral cautiously followed her, grumbling as water filled his boots. As they turned a corner past a waterfall, Yeral saw what Reise had been leading him towards.

Floating in midair, above the surface of the water, was a swirling black vortex, like a portal. Yeral simply stared at it, confused, as Reise walked towards it.

"What IS this thing?" he asked confusedly. Reise stopped and turned to face him.

"Well, if I had to guess, it will transport us somewhere... But I have no idea where." she explained. Yeral was uncertain about what to do, but Reise simply looked back at the churning dark portal. "Only one way to find out... Come on!" she yelled, jumping into the vortex. In an instant, Reise was gone, whisked away to parts unknown. Hesitantly, Yeral walked towards the portal and reached out to touch it. The moment his arm reached the swirling darkness, he was pulled in. For several seconds, all Yeral saw was darkness, before suddenly bright sunlight shone in his eyes. After a moment of blindness, Yeral was able to see his surroundings clearly. He was in a green forest not unlike Darkroot, but the trees were younger and the grass was greener. In front of him was a shear drop from a cliff, which Reise gazed down.

Slowly, Yeral walked up next to her and looked down to see what she was staring at. Below them was a large city with architecture unlike any city that Yeral had seen. The buildings were mostly square and tightly clustered, with blue ceramic roof tiles. The city had multiple levels, descending deeper into the valley, with thin stone staircases connecting them. In the highest level of the city was a rounded structure, shaped like a large coliseum, with a single tower standing next to it. There was a stone bridge leading to the city not far from where Yeral and Reise were standing, so they gradually made their way across. Standing at the end of the bridge was a guard, who looked at Yeral and Reise curiously.

"Excuse me, sir. May we enter the city?" Yeral asked politely. The guard saw that Yeral was wearing the armor of a darkwraith, and seemed to recognize it.

"That's the armor worn by the servants of that toothy serpent. Are you here to help with the excavation?" the guard asked. Yeral's eyes widened behind his mask. Why would the people of this city know about Kaathe? And what was this excavation he was talking about? Not wanting to look suspicious in front of Reise, Yeral quickly replied.

"Uh, yes, of course. I am here to oversee things." he lied quickly. Reise glanced at him, but said nothing. The guard nodded and gestured for the two of them to pass.

"Very well. Enjoy your time in Oolacile." the guard said as the two knights strode into the city. The city square was oddly empty, and there were no lights in any of the windows. Everyone must have been participating in the excavation, whatever that was. As soon as they were out of earshot of the guard, Reise turned to look at Yeral.

"Toothy serpent? Excavation? What did he mean?" she asked curiously. Yeral simply shrugged.

"I have no idea. I just needed to get us in. I assume it has something to do with New Londo, since that is where I found the armor, but I do not know." he replied after a moment. This statement was half true, at least, he really didn't know what the excavation was. Obviously it had something to do with the Abyss and the age of Dark, but why hadn't Kaathe mentioned anything about it to Yeral?

"Did you hear what the guard called this place? Oolacile? That city was destroyed long ago. We've traveled to the past!" Reise exclaimed suddenly, surprising Yeral. Yeral contemplated the meaning of what Reise was saying for some time. "I'm guessing, whatever destroyed this place has something to do with that serpent, whatever it is." Reise concluded. Yeral nodded vaguely, but his mind was busy racing with questions. Why would Kaathe want to destroy a city? And why didn't Reise know about primordial serpents, when Kaathe had said that she was working with one? Either Kaathe was lying, or Reise was, and Yeral was not sure which.

"We should head deeper into the city. Maybe we can find out what is going on." Yeral said eventually. Reise looked at him, nodding in agreement, and together the two of them headed down into the deeper levels of the city. Just like the city square, the entire place seemed to be strangely quiet. Finally, at the very bottom of the valley, Yeral and Reise saw the city's residents, standing around a large hole dug in the ground. There were pickaxes and shovels lying about on the ground, but no-one seemed to be digging anymore. Instead, they stood around chatting, glancing nervously into the pit. Pushing their way through the crowd, Yeral and Reise gazed down into the hole that the citizens had dug, and saw what looked like a crude stone tomb, with what looked like a mummified body lying in the center.

"It is quite something, is it not? The grave of the primeval man?" a man dressed in a heavy black coat with a top hat and an unsettling grin spoke to Yeral and Reise. As the two knights turned to face the man, he pointed into the pit and continued speaking. "The serpent told these people that the primeval man could give them great power. I wonder if he was right?" the grinning man continued. Yeral was about to say something, before the man looked him directly in the eye. "I know that you two do not belong here. Whisked off to the past, just like me. But since you're here, why not have a look? I'm sure they'll let you in." the man whispered quietly, letting out an unsettling chuckle. Yeral turned to Reise, who nodded, and the two started walking towards the pit.

"Alright everyone, stand back! I work for the serpent! Now let us see what kind of power this corpse has!" Yeral called out loudly. Everyone turned to look at Yeral and Reise as the two descended into the pit. No-one tried to stop them, because they believed Yeral's lie about being sent by Kaathe, though of course it was only a half-lie. In the bottom of the hole, Yeral stepped towards the mummified corpse. Reise stood behind him nervously, as he reached out to touch the primeval man. As soon as he got close, Yeral felt a powerful force, like the life was being sucked out of him. The black humanity that Yeral had gathered flowed out of his body and into the primeval man, reducing him back to his hollowed form. A terrible roar rang out, and the corpse exploded into a shower of darkness, blinding Yeral and Reise for some time.

Once the darkness finally cleared, the two knights found that the ground had cracked open all around them, and the shrieks of the townsfolk filled the air. Enormous masses of humanity floated around in the air around them, and looming out of the cloud of darkness were many eerie glowing red eyes. The eyes leered at the two for a few moments, before turning away. A loud stomping sound could be heard as Manus, the Father of the Abyss, made his way into Oolacile.


	10. Destruction and Reise

Yeral groaned and opened his eyes, his entire body aching. He looked around, seeing that he was in a dark cavern, with a large rock wall on one side. The earth was a nasty, unnatural purple color, and everything past his immediate surroundings was shrouded in inky darkness. Reise was nowhere to be seen. After Manus had awoken, the ground had trembled and split, opening an enormous chasm below Oolacile. Much of the city had collapsed into the fissure, destroying the great civilization in an instant. Yeral couldn't remember falling, or what had happened to Reise. As he pulled himself to his feet, he hoped desperately that she was still alive. This was all his fault. The air was heavy around him, with a familiar feeling to it – this was another opening of the Abyss. But it didn't make sense! Why would this primeval man be connected to the Abyss, and why would Kaathe encourage the people to awaken it, if it would destroy them? The questions rung in his mind, but he could not answer them. First, he needed to get out of this hole.

Looking upwards, Yeral saw that there was sunlight glinting far above him, with a thin path snaking its way up the rock wall beside him. With no other option, Yeral began wearily marching his way up the rocky precipice. Sometimes, when he would look out over the abyss, small white eyes would peer back at him. He even swore that, on occasion, the darkness would shift and stir. Strange, unintelligible whispers permeated the air like a constant breeze. Somehow, this place managed to be even more unnerving than the Abyss below New Londo. What really bothered Yeral as he climbed, however, was the fact that the monster was lurking somewhere below him. Deep down, at the bottom of the pit, he knew that the primeval man was working to spread its evil across the land. Briefly he wondered whether he should try and stop the beast, but no – he must escape. He must find Reise. With renewed conviction, Yeral continued the climb, though the thought of the Father of the Abyss still ate at the back of his mind.

To his relief, Yeral found that the thin pathway did, indeed, lead him all the way up to the surface. As he emerged from the darkness of the Abyss, he saw that he was back in the woods that surrounded Oolacile. The grass around the edges of the pit was rotted, and lines of black corruption crawled across the ground like wicked tree roots. Soon his gaze was drawn to the city itself. Or, rather, what had once been the city of Oolacile. Now only a few clusters of buildings stood, with many having fallen over or sunken into the blackness completely. From the way the sun hung low in the sky, Yeral surmised that he had been unconscious for many hours. It was far too late to save the people of the city now, he realized. That meant that Reise was almost certainly doomed as well. With no idea of what to do now, Yeral sunk to the ground and stared blankly out at the ruined city. How was he supposed to become a Dark Lord and save the world, when he couldn't control the darkness? His moping, however, was soon interrupted by the distinctive clank of armored footfalls behind him.

Yeral whipped around, hoping to see Reise walking towards him. His heart soon sank as he saw that the newcomer was most certainly not Reise. The armored man was very tall – similar in height to Ornstein – and his armor was a dark silver color. Adorning the man's armor was a long, flowing purple cape with a matching armored hood. On his back was a huge, ornate silver greatsword, and strapped to his arm was a heavy triangular greatshield. Trailing behind the man was a fluffy gray wolf, that seemed to be carrying a similar sword of its own. The man strode right up next to Yeral and looked out over the ruined city of Oolacile, then placed his hand on Yeral's shoulder.

"Come now – on your feet. It's alright." the man said softly, his voice sounding deep and strong. Despite the dire situation, he did not seem to be at all worried. As Yeral slowly stood up, the man grinned below his hood. "There you go. Even in your darkest hour, always keep your chin up. This city may be saved yet." he said warmly. Yeral was very confused now. Who was this knight, and why was he so certain that things would turn out well? In fact, how did he intend to save the city when it was already crumbled? That sort of optimism seemed rather unwise in light of the current situation.

"Excuse me, sir? Who, exactly, are you?" Yeral asked politely, trying his best to hide his confusion. The knight chuckled. He was entirely too pleasant for a man overseeing a catastrophe.

"Why, I am Sir Artorias! One of the four knights! Surely you have heard of me?" Artorias replied, with more than a hint of pride. Yeral naturally recognized the name immediately, and suddenly everything made sense. Of course the legendary Abysswalker would be sent to quell the Abyss in Oolacile. It also explained why he did not seem too bothered by the Abyss, for he had faced it before. Yeral bit his tongue to stop himself from reminding Artorias that he had actually failed to save New Londo from the Four Kings. Better not to antagonize one of the world's most skilled swordsmen, he thought. "Now, the question is, who are you?" Artorias asked calmly, cutting through Yeral's train of thought.

"I am Sir Yeral. Knight of Astora." Yeral said uncertainly, suddenly realizing something unpleasant. Artorias had faced the Abyss in New Londo, what would happen if he recognized Yeral's darkwraith armor? Thankfully, Artorias simply nodded and extended his hand. Hesitantly, Yeral shook it, and the two knights turned towards Oolacile.

"With introductions out of the way, what say you Sir Yeral? Will you aid me in saving this city?" Artorias asked after a moment. Yeral nodded immediately in agreement. After all, if anyone could defeat the Father of the Abyss, it would be a great warrior like Artorias, he decided. Together the two knights descended into the remains of Oolacile. The city was now more empty than ever, with large cracks in the stone pavement and nary a sound but the knights' footsteps. Yeral constantly glanced about nervously, seeing glowing red pinpricks of light moving around within the windows of the dark buildings. Artorias did not seem to be phased by the eerie surroundings, marching intently across the vacant city square. The wolf that had been dutifully following Artorias up until now abruptly stopped, its ears perking up. The wolf uttered a low growl and looked over at a nearby doorway. Artorias quickly drew his shining greatsword, as a horrific creature emerged from the blackness within the building.

This monster had once been a normal human, but now it was hunched over oddly, with freakishly long arms trailing on the ground. Its head was a bloated, thorny mass covered in tiny red eyeballs, and its skin was a pale bloodless gray. Letting out a low gurgling hiss, the creature swiftly jumped forwards at Artorias, far faster than its shambling stature would have indicated. Yeral raised his sword to strike at the creature from the side, but before he could, Artorias leaped into the air with astonishing force, did an impressive front-flip, and smashed his enormous blade down through the bloathead, easily cutting it to pieces. Yeral was astonished, for he had never seen a heavily-armed knight move with such speed and such strength. Artorias was even more mighty than he could have expected. Yeral prayed that they would never become enemies.

Much of their journey through Oolacile was the same, Artorias's great skill outshining Yeral in every respect. But Yeral was not jealous, really, it was a rather welcome reprieve after all that he had been through. As the knights trekked through the ruined city, Yeral grew increasingly worried. He had seen no signs of Reise, or indeed any non-mutated humans. Could one of the many bloatheads actually have been a transformed Reise, indistinguishable from the rest? Yeral mulled over that possibility with horror as Artorias led them into a dark, ruined prison. This building was near the bottom of the city's ruins, half sunken into the Abyss already. Odd purple goop stained the walls, and small black particles floated in the air. All of the prison cells had their bars torn open, and chains could be heard scraping through the walls, but there was not a living thing in sight.

Until, that is, the two knights entered a large square stone chamber with chains lining the walls, and a pair of large torches illuminating it. Standing in the very center, panting heavily, was a woman dressed in heavily-worn but still easily identifiable Elite Knight armor. In one hand, dragging on the ground, was a battered titanite catch-pole. It was none other than Lady Reise. Yeral ran towards her, obviously pleased to see that she was still alive.

"Reise!" he called out excitedly. Reise looked up at him slowly, and Yeral began to realize that something was very wrong. Her body was glowing faintly with black energy, similar to that which suffused the air of the Abyss. With every movement, droplets of glowing purple goo dripped eerily onto the ground, like nasty congealed blood. Yeral abruptly stopped moving, staring at Reise in horror, as she let out an unearthly hiss. Artorias raised his sword and dashed towards Reise, but Yeral simply held out his hand, stopping Artorias in his tracks. "Please, Sir Artorias. She was my comrade. Allow me to face her, with honor." Yeral spoke forlornly. Grudgingly, Artorias nodded his head and backed off, intending to observe the battle. He would not intrude on the young knight's sense of honor, he decided. Reise stood still for a moment, her body quivering, as the black energy in the air surged into her. It was clear that, whatever had happened to her in the Abyss, it had completely overtaken her body. With an awful scream, sounding more like a pained howl than any human noise, Reise hefted her catch-pole in both hands and charged directly at Yeral with surprising speed.

As soon as she got close, Reise whipped her catch-pole around wildly, with Yeral just barely jumping out of the way. Her swings were powerful and fast, but clumsy. Clearly the power of the Abyss did not favor precision. Still, Reise's newfound speed was worrying, as she swiftly followed up her wide slash with a jumping smash. Yeral rolled out of the way a fraction of a second too late, and the circular blade carved into his right shoulder. Whether the curved edge was razor-sharp, or Yeral's armor was simply weak, he did not know, but either way the catch-pole slashed through his protection like nothing, leaving a bleeding gash in his shoulder. He was thankful that Reise hadn't managed to take his arm off. With an animalistic growl, Reise hoisted her polearm into the air and slashed it diagonally twice. Yeral managed to escape from the first slice, then bashed his shield into her weapon when she went for the second. Thankfully, his attempt at parrying the blow succeeded, and Reise stumbled backwards, easily thrown off balance. Yeral took the opportunity to gulp down a swig of Estus, instantly mending his wounded shoulder.

If Reise had been operating with her normal level of skill, Yeral's strategy to fight her never would have worked. But as it was, her crazed flailing left her wide open for Yeral's counter-attacks. Reise yelled angrily, jumping at Yeral and performing a front-flip slam very similar to the move Yeral had seen Artorias perform earlier, but Reise's attempt lacked the finesse of the skilled Abysswalker. Yeral sidestepped with ease as Reise's blade stuck into the ground. He swung his zweihander sideways, striking Reise hard in the side of the head. Bleeding a copious amount of purple goo, Reise screeched with primal rage, a sound that haunted Yeral to his core. Yeral moved to slice his sword downwards in Reise's head, right as she unleashed a swift flurry of slashes with her catch-pole. The two knights traded blows, with Yeral being cut across the stomach, and Reise being chopped in the head. As the two of them stumbled from the force of each others' attacks, Reise apparently realized that her current level of strength wasn't enough. With a horrendous rumbling growl, Reise clenched her fists, clouds of dark magic materializing in the air. The black energy swirled around her, and then exploded with a powerful burst that threw Yeral backwards. Reise's body was now engulfed in more Abyss magic than ever, practically radiating clouds of it from every inch of her body.

With an enormous burst of speed, almost too fast for Yeral to see, Reise all but flew through the air at him, howling madly the whole way. Her catch-pole, now stained black by the Abyss, shone wickedly as it passed through the air. Yeral, who had been sitting dazed on the ground from the dark magic burst, quickly realized that he would not be able to dodge this assault. Instead, he hefted his greatsword and thrust it forward in front of him at the very last second. Reise, skewered in mid-air by the long blade, let out a low hiss of pain. The momentum from Reise's jump pulled the sword out of Yeral's hands and Reise landed on the ground in a heap beside him, the tip of the zweihander sticking up in the air. Slowly the dark magic aura faded away from Reise's body, as she took one last pained breath, before she was still. Yeral stared at the broken body for a long time in shock, before he finally managed to speak.

"Reise... I am so, so sorry..." he whispered hoarsely. Artorias, who had been anxiously watching the fierce battle from one edge of the chamber, slowly approached Yeral. Yeral heard the knight's clanking feet behind him, but he refused to turn around, still staring at Reise's body, horrified.

"I am sorry about your friend." Artorias said softly. He may have only known Yeral for a few hours, but he had seen what the horrors of the Abyss could do. Many brave knights had been consumed by the vile blackness, forced to fight their former comrades. "She tried to fight the thing that caused this, I think." Artorias realized quickly. "That must be why she was so thoroughly corrupted." he murmured, more to himself than anything. Yeral said nothing, though he knew that Artorias was probably correct.

"This is all my fault..." he croaked out eventually. Artorias opened his mouth to reassure the distraught Yeral, only to be interrupted by an unpleasantly familiar voice.

"Oh yes, and you have done very well indeed! Better than I could have hoped!" rang out the gravelly voice of Darkstalker Kaathe, slithering out of a dark passage to the Abyss. Artorias whipped around, his hand gripping his sword tightly, as his wolf companion growled furiously. The serpent was sporting his normal toothy grin as he coiled his long gray body in a circle around the two knights.

"Kaathe! You darkwraith coward! I knew you were the cause of this!" hissed Artorias lowly, seething with anger.

"Oh, my dear Artorias. Did you not appreciate my efforts in New Londo? What a tragedy, I thought we were friends!" Kaathe replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Artorias raised his greatsword threateningly, but the serpent ignored the gesture. He obviously was not intimidated by Artorias in the least. "Besides, I was not the one who awoke the primeval man. That honor goes to my loyal servant! Isn't that right, Sir Yeral?" Kaathe continued silkily, obviously enjoying himself thoroughly. Artorias turned to look at Yeral accusingly, who hung his head in shame.

"I never meant for any of this to happen." Yeral murmured despondently, as Kaathe simply chuckled. The serpent looked around mockingly, before leaning his head down over Reise's body.

"Really? Because I seem to recall you swearing a covenant with me, to bring darkness to the world... Dark Lord." the serpent taunted nastily, before turning to face Artorias, who did not seem to know how to respond. "And you, noble Artorias. Do not tell me you did not recognize the armor of my servants! You insult me!" he said, pretending to sound hurt. Artorias glanced at Yeral strangely, before simply shaking his head. At that moment, Yeral decided that he had heard enough. Jumping to his feet angrily, he pulled off his metal skull mask and threw it defiantly to the ground.

"Enough! Consider our covenant broken, snake! You deceived me, promised me a better world... promised me power. But the truth is, you are nothing but a miserable darkened wretch. Your Abyss cannot create, it can only destroy!" Yeral ranted angrily. Artorias smiled with a sense of satisfaction, but to the knights' displeasure, Kaathe did not seem to be phased. In fact, the serpent burst into loud, cackling laughter. Yeral glared, his now-exposed blue eyes piercing the serpent, as Kaathe's laughter subsided.

"This is rich indeed. You were willing to kill others in my name, but as soon as it is your friend on the chopping block, you are horrified? You have no place to lecture me, undead!" Kaathe exclaimed gleefully, his words cutting into Yeral far worse than Reise's blade ever had. "Besides, you imply that the darkness is any worse than its alternative? Enjoy, then, burning in agony for all eternity! At least the age of dark would grant a swift death." Kaathe added, with a hint of conviction behind his mocking tone. Yeral looked down at the ground, saying nothing, as the serpent grinned even wider than before. "No, I thought not. You do not have the will to link the fire. You are too weak to do anything, so this is where I must leave you. Enjoy wallowing in your failure, you will be hollow before you know it! So long!" Kaathe spoke triumphantly, clearly convinced that he had broken Yeral's spirit, and he was not entirely wrong. Artorias, quivering with rage, tried to slice at the serpent with his greatsword, but in an instant Kaathe was gone, and the blade whiffed through empty air. Artorias sighed resignedly and hefted his blade back over his shoulder. He turned towards the passage that Kaathe had emerged from, which led straight into the chasm of the Abyss.

"This is where I must leave you, Sir Yeral. Return to safety above." he commanded. Yeral was about to protest, before Artorias spoke again, this time more softly. "I must face the father of the Abyss alone. You would certainly be overtaken just as your friend was. I can withstand what a normal man could not. Now, go." Artorias said, marching towards the dark passage. As the valiant warrior vanished into the blackness, Yeral stood stock-still, until Artorias's footsteps no longer echoed through the chamber. Then, he moved quickly, tearing the darkwraith armor off of his body with disgust. He was ashamed to have ever worn such a symbol of wickedness. With the silver skeletal armor lying in a pile on the stone brick floor, Yeral walked over to Reise's body, or rather Reise's empty armor. Her body itself had been so corrupted by the Abyss that, when she died, it dissolved completely into purple goop, leaving behind the empty shell of her Elite Knight armor, along with Yeral's greatsword.

"Reise... I can never make up for this. But please, allow me to wear your armor, as an eternal reminder of what I have done." Yeral spoke intently, placing the scratched Elite Knight helmet over his head.


	11. Consequences and Kiln

Yeral's voice trailed off as he recounted what had happened in Oolacile. Priscilla looked at him oddly, not sure what to feel anymore. Yeral seemed to be genuinely regretful of his sins – but was that enough to absolve him? Priscilla really couldn't say for sure.

"So thou witnessed the fall of the city of Oolacile, and Lady Reise died by thy hand. What happened next?" she asked, curiously. She was hoping that Yeral's next story would help resolve some of her questions about him. The knight of Astora stared straight at Priscilla for several moments, and the crossbreed saw something she had not noticed before – a large, hastily sewn seam in the surcoat of Yeral's armor, no doubt from where his sword had pierced it. That confirmed that his story was true, at least partially. Yeral, for his part, was still struggling to compose himself after his last tale. The memories of his experience in Oolacile haunted him vividly, but perhaps even more overwhelming was the guilt that he felt, for he had played right into Kaathe's hands. It took him nearly a minute before he spoke up.

"I wanted to do anything that I could to atone for my terrible mistakes. And I knew. I knew what I needed to do..." he said softly, looking down at himself with regret. Priscilla stayed silent, for it was obvious that Yeral was not done speaking yet. When he finally finished his sentence, his voice was heavy. "I knew... But when the time came, I faltered. I ran. I came to this painting, for it reflected how I felt... I spent a long time staring at it, unsure of what to do, until one day I awoke here." he recalled quietly. Priscilla was more confused than ever now, for this answer raised yet more questions.

"What didst thou mean, when thou said thy knew what needest be done, yet faltered?" Priscilla wondered curiously. She had a theory about what Yeral was talking about, but she wanted him to say it. Yeral shook his head and sighed sadly, obviously steadying himself before he answered the question.

"I suppose I have one last story to tell..."

* * *

In a dark room below Firelink Shrine, the sacred Lordvessel sat on a rough wooden altar. Standing tall behind the altar were a pair of great stone doors, sealed tightly by some ancient magic. A tiny fire flickered in the center of the Lordvessel, but the room was otherwise deathly still. Suddenly, something dropped from the blackness above and landed with a clank on the brick floor of the Firelink Chamber. Yeral strode determinedly towards the altar, a huge mass of glowing golden souls in his hands. He had done it – he had retrieved the four Lord Souls, and now he could finally make things right.

"Reise... this is for you. And for everyone." he declared to himself, and dumped the four brilliant souls into the vessel before him. In an instant, the tiny flame burst into a roaring inferno, its light filling the chamber. A low rumbling noise permeated the air, and the enormous stone gates slid open, a white light shining from within. Yeral stepped forward and saw that behind the doors was a pure white passage – almost like the opposite of the Abyss – with stairs descending downwards towards a wide doorway that opened into a gray sky. Without hesitation, Yeral began walking down the staircase. As soon as he set foot on the stone steps, eerie apparitions emerged from the white void.

They looked like knights with horned helmets, like the black knights that roamed Lordran, but they were completely gray and almost transparent, much like the ghosts of New Londo. The spectral knights seemed content to ignore Yeral, walking straight by him before fading back into nothing, though Yeral swore that he heard them whispering as they passed. Soon enough, he reached the bottom of the staircase and marched out through the doorway into the Kiln of the First Flame. The kiln was, to put it bluntly, a wasteland. It was like the land itself had been incinerated, with veritable mountains of ash covering the barren landscape. The melted remains of what had once been great columns and archways dotted the area, and the sky was cloaked in heavy dark clouds.

"What a bleak place this is..." Yeral murmured, looking around. In the very center of the kiln were the charred ruins of what had once been some sort of great temple or shrine, a towering round structure with many archways. This imposing building was standing upon a great ashen tree stump, larger than any tree that Yeral had ever seen. Black Knights roamed the lands, but like their spectral comrades, they did not seem to care about Yeral's presence as he walked by. Trudging silently through the dry wastes, Yeral began to feel something odd, like a great sense of heaviness on his back. The air here seemed hot and arid, and somehow sad. The kiln had once been a great font of power and life, but now it was dying. "The world is dying." Yeral realized suddenly, as he climbed down a glowing, partially-molten staircase.

Rounding a corner from the bottom of the stairs, Yeral saw that he had finally arrived at the entrance to the central structure of the kiln. Inside was a rough stone room, like it had been carved out of a natural cavern, with jagged spikes of black rock jutting from the floor. In the very center of the chamber was a small shallow basin, with what looked like a tiny campire crackling within it. No doubt, this was all that was left of the once-mighty First Flame. Sitting immobile next to the flame was a ragged, skeletal figure with a heavy stone greatsword sitting on the ground next to it. The remains of the man's ornate robes, combined with his tall pointed crown and his luxurious beard made him seem familiar to Yeral. Obviously, this was Lord Gwyn of Anor Londo, who had sacrificed himself to sustain the fire. But now, it seemed, he was nothing but a burnt-out husk, just like his knights.

Yeral had barely taken a step towards the First Flame, before the skeletal Gwyn jolted into life, leaping to his feet with surprising speed. As soon as Gwyn had lifted his greatsword off of the ground, the blade was instantly engulfed in a raging fire. With barely a moment's hesitation, Gwyn jumped high into the air and flew down at Yeral as if propelled by some magical force. The burning sword whiffed past Yeral's head as Gwyn landed, and the air pressure from the blow was so strong that Yeral could feel it through his helmet. Even after centuries of decay, the king of the gods was a mighty opponent indeed. Immediately after he landed, Gwyn lunged forwards at Yeral with his empty hand. The knight was far too close to Gwyn already, and was swiftly taken off guard. Gwyn grasped Yeral by the throat and hefted him upwards, channeling powerful fire magic through his hand. Yeral clawed desperately at Gwyn's fingers, trying to pry them loose as the heat burned through his armor. Thinking quickly, he swung his foot upwards hard and kicked Gwyn square in the gut.

Gwyn reeled back, releasing his grip, and Yeral dropped to the ground, still clutching his throat. He had escaped from the lord of sunlight's burning grasp, but he was still lying defenseless on the ground. He expected a burning sword strike to kill him on the spot... but it never came. Gwyn may have retained much of his massive strength, but it seems that his stamina was not what it once was, for he stood wheezing and clutching his side for several seconds, trying to catch his breath. Yeral quickly stood to his feet and grabbed the zweihander that he had dropped, swinging it sideways at Gwyn. Gwyn jumped backwards as quickly as he could, but Yeral's blade cut through him, leaving a deep gash in his chest. The lord of sunlight soon tried to retaliate, swinging wildly with his burning blade, but his movements were heavy and telegraphed, and Yeral simply bashed the blade out of his way with his shield, sending Gwyn staggering backwards. Yeral seized the opportunity and dashed forwards, slamming his greatsword down onto the god's head.

Gwyn, however, was not done fighting just yet, and thrust his empty hand out in front of him. An enormous burst of fire exploded outwards from his palm, throwing Yeral backwards and burning him badly. Gwyn flew into the air again, trying to use the force of gravity to slam his sword down onto Yeral as hard as he could. Yeral, dazed and wracked with pain, just barely managed to roll to the side as the great lord crashed into the ground. Gwyn's body, weakened and damaged as it was, was not suited for such an impact, and he crumpled to the floor in agony. Yeral rose steadily to his feet and looked down at the crumbling god before him, still struggling to grasp his burning sword. Taking pity on the poor creature, Yeral hefted his sword and stabbed it down into Gwyn's skull. The flames on the stone greatsword flickered out, and the lord of sunlight gasped out one last breath.

"...The burning... is go...n...e..." The haggard whisper chilled Yeral to his bones, as he slowly drew his blade away from Gwyn's remains. Shakily, he walked over to the tiny, dying First Flame and looked down at the glowing embers. He was about to reach out his hand and touch it, but then suddenly he stopped himself. Racing through Yeral's head were images of himself, burnt to a skeleton just like Gwyn had been. He pictured himself writhing in agony from the flames eating away at flesh, desperately hoping for another undead to come and end his suffering. That must have been his Gwyn felt. The king's final words echoed in his head, and slowly Yeral pulled his hand back. The world was dying. He needed to link the fire, or everything would end up consumed by darkness just like New Londo... just like Oolacile. But, as he stared down at the fading fire, he realized that he couldn't do it. His fear was too much. Slowly, he turned around and began to walk away, looking regretfully over his shoulder for a moment.

"Reise... please forgive me..."


	12. Exits and Endings

"When the time came... when I had the chance to make things right... I could not pay the price. And so the world is doomed to die. Now you know who I really am..." Yeral concluded, his voice thick with regret. Priscilla had politely sat in complete silence as he spoke, but now he was expecting her to react. He was expecting her to scream and shout and demand that he leave, but she did not. Instead, the crossbreed was gazing down at him softly.

"Fret not, Sir Yeral. All is not lost." she said warmly, clearly attempting to comfort the distraught knight. But Yeral was more confused than anything by this, because they both knew how dire the situation was. The world was dying because he had failed - that certainly sounded a lot like everything being lost.

"I do not understand... Why are you not furious with me?" Yeral stammered out eventually. Priscilla simply sighed softly to herself and placed her hand warmly on Yeral's shoulder, only confusing the undead knight further.

"Thou hath fled to this cold and lonely realm, running from thy destined suffering. If anyone knoweth how thou feel, 'tis I." Priscilla replied kindly, reminding Yeral of her own experiences as a hated crossbreed. Yeral, however, shook his head sadly. The comparison between the two was not really accurate, for Priscilla had retreated to the Painted World due to prejudice, while Yeral was hiding from his own mistakes. The difference, he thought, was that Priscilla did not deserve a life of solitude, while he did.

"Lady Priscilla, please save your sympathy... I do not deserve it. My mistakes are too terrible to be forgiven." Yeral said, choking back tears. The brave, confident knight that Priscilla had met was gone, and instead she saw a miserable and honestly rather pathetic creature before her. It still confused her how he had fallen apart so quickly. Somehow, her innocent questions about his past adventures had reduced the knight to a quivering wreck. Why did he not display this vulnerable side when they had first met? The whole situation seemed very bizarre. "Did I say something wrong?" Yeral asked concernedly, and Priscilla realized that she had been staring at him bemusedly for several minutes.

"Forgive me for asking this of thee... but why didst thou not share thy reasons for coming here when thou arrived? Thou offered stories of bravery and adventure, not of misery and despair." Priscilla asked him, perhaps sounding more accusatory than she intended. Yeral, however, nodded sadly and looked Priscilla directly in the eyes.

"I regretted walking away from the kiln as soon as I had done it. I thought that, if I could pretend to be real hero, I could build up my courage enough to go back. So I put on my adventurous knight facade and I clung to it as hard as I could. Those stories that I told you? I wanted to make you trust me, because then I would be able to trust myself again. If you believed in Yeral the hero, then maybe he would become real. I am sorry for trying to manipulate you like that." Yeral replied quietly, reflecting on his motives for speaking with the crossbreed. He hadn't even realized why he had really wanted to get to know Priscilla until now. He had told himself that he had wanted to learn more about her, but now he knew that he had really just wanted her to believe in him. Now he was really expecting Priscilla to be outraged, but once again he was surprised when the crossbreed smiled gently.

"Sir Yeral, wouldst thou mind if I shared another tale of mine with thee?" she asked politely. Yeral tilted his head confusedly. Why would Priscilla want to tell him a story now, of all times? Priscilla looked at him expectantly, and slowly he nodded his head. The sudden change of subject seemed odd, but at least now he might have a chance to distract himself from his self-pity.

* * *

Priscilla had lived in the Painted World for only a few short days, and yet already she was starting to feel unhappy with her new home. The painted mountaintop had only a few ruined brick buildings dotting its barren peak, and none of them were richly furnished. Priscilla had a natural fur coat to keep her warm, and sleeping on brick was nothing new for her, but she still wished that Ariamis had thought to paint a proper house, at least. If he had intended her to be able to live here, why had he not bothered to make the place livable? Worse than the discomfort, however, was the overwhelming sense of loneliness. Priscilla had always been ostracized in Anor Londo, but something about this place was different. Before, Priscilla had been able to hope that one day someone might accept her, but there were no kind strangers like Ariamis here. There was nobody here besides Priscilla and a few shambling hollows.

Most of all, Priscilla felt angry. Angry at the gods, angry at the world, and angry at herself. She didn't understand why people hated her so much for being half-dragon. She had never asked to be born like that, it wasn't her fault. She had, however, chosen to imprison herself in the Painted World for all time, a decision that she was quickly coming to regret. As she considered this, her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps behind her. Priscilla whirled around quickly, brandishing her scythe threateningly, as she saw who was approaching her. A tall, slender woman with wavy brown hair was treading slowly across the snowy floor of Priscilla's chamber, dressed elegantly in white silk wrappings. Priscilla narrowed her eyes suspiciously and raised her scythe higher to make sure that the warning was clear, but the intruder did not falter.

"Be at peace, child. I mean thee no harm." the woman said gently, unfazed by Priscilla's hostility. Priscilla, however, refused to lower her guard and continued to glare at the woman.

"Who art thou?" she asked edgily. Priscilla had a whole myriad of questions about the woman, including what she wanted and how she had come to the Painted World, but she decided that caution would be best. One question at a time.

"I am Gwynevere, daughter of Gwyn and princess of Sunlight." Gwynevere answered politely, but this only made Priscilla even more suspicious.

"What doth a goddess of Anor Londo want with me? Hath thou come to end my life? I shalt not make it that easy!" Priscilla growled angrily, stepping forward threateningly. Gwynevere backed away carefully, obviously worried by the crossbreed's power, but showed no signs of hostility. In fact, on further inspection, she appeared to be completely unarmed. Whatever her goal was, it obviously did not involve violence, Priscilla realized. "...I apologize. Please explain thyself?" she said quietly, stepping back and lowering her scythe. Gwynevere breathed a small sigh of relief before regaining her dignified posture.

"All of Anor Londo hath heard of what occurreth at the manor of Ariamis. Through great magics, I travelled here to converse with thee. I offer a warning: thou must remain in this Painted World for all time. Nothing would pleaseth me more than to offer thee escape, but my father would surely slay thee. Thou must understand, for thy own good, thou must liveth in solitude." Gwynevere explained softly, her voice having a slight edge of regret to it. Priscilla was very confused by this revelation, for she had never met Gwynevere before. Why would this goddess want to help her? Why would she even care?

"Forgive me, but what doth thou mean when thou say that thou wouldst offer me a chance to leave this realm in peace? Gods such as thee hath ostracized me, why wouldst thou desire to aid me? How wouldst my freedom be to thy benefit?" Priscilla asked confusedly, still with a slight edge of suspicion in her voice. Gwynevere's explanation really didn't make sense to her at all. Gwynevere looked Priscilla directly in the eyes, smiling sadly, and the two stood in silence for a time before eventually Gwynevere replied.

"...Doth a mother need a reason, to aid her child? Dear Priscilla..." she whispered warmly. Priscilla gasped and covered her mouth, stunned and unable to react. After taking a moment to compose herself, she finally managed to stammer out a response.

"Mother... thou art my mother..." she said dazedly, and Gwynevere nodded her head solemnly. Suddenly, however, a nasty thought appeared in Priscilla's head and she narrowed her eyes. "...If thou art my mother... if thou knew... why didst thou abandon me!? I was alone!" she shouted accusatorily, and Gwynevere hung her head. Priscilla had thought about her parents many times over the years, and she had never been able to come up with a good justification for never knowing them. Years of anger and desperation could not be swept aside so easily. She glared expectantly at Gwynevere, waiting for the goddess to give her excuse.

"Lord Gwyn didst not approve of thy father, Seath the Scaleless, courting me. A crossbreed child wouldst surely possess terrible powers, and indeed it was so. Thou were a threat to all of Lordran. I had to choose between leaving thee, and letting thou be killed. Can thou truly blameth me, for choosing as I did?" Gwynevere replied quietly, regret obviously hanging in her voice. Priscilla, however, was not completely satisfied by this answer. In fact, it only seemed to make her more upset.

"Thou treat me like I am a monster. A threat, as if I wouldst ever destroy this kingdom! Never did I asketh for the power of lifehunt, 'twas forced upon me at birth! The lord Gwyn wouldst have me killed, and thou wouldst leave me in misery, for things beyond my control! Spare thy false sympathies." she ranted bitterly, and Gwynevere just looked at her sadly.

"...Doth thou knoweth? What thy powers are capable of?" Gwynevere asked eventually. Priscilla said nothing, still glaring daggers at the princess of sunlight. "The silver knight captain, who confronted thee? Who thou assaulted with thy scythe?" she continued, and Priscilla nodded grudgingly. "He perished. Our finest healers could not saveth him. 'Twas like the life had been robbed from his body, they claimed. Doth thou understandeth now? Even a tiny showing of thy power is devastating. Imagine, every time thou were sufficiently angered, someone would die. I am sorry for leaving thee, truly I am, but thou art a grave danger to our great kingdom." Gwynevere concluded calmly. Priscilla's glare faltered, her mind raging with internal conflict. Maybe she really was a danger to the gods. Maybe they were right to fear her? She wasn't sure anymore.

"I think, 'tis time for thee to leave." she said, but there was no malice to her voice. Gwynevere sighed sadly and nodded.

"Indeed. Remember, my dear Priscilla, sometimes thou must maketh sacrifices. I had to surrender thee, my only child, to protecteth my home. Now, thou must remain here forever more, to accomplish that same goal. Both of our desires shalt be requitted not. 'Twas very nice meeting thee, dearest daughter..." Gwynevere replied melancholically, smiling as she faded away into thin air, leaving Priscilla alone again.

* * *

Priscilla finished her story quietly, and suddenly Yeral understood why she had brought it up. The message of this particular story was very clear, and Priscilla looked down at Yeral expectantly. Yeral refused to meet her gaze, and Priscilla frowned unhappily. Yeral's mind was racing, trying to form an appropriate response. He really didn't know what to think anymore. It took quite some time, but eventually he spoke, with an air of conviction to his voice.

"It is time, I think, for me to take my leave. Thank you for speaking with me, Lady Priscilla." he said calmly, turning away from Priscilla. Priscilla was concerned by his sudden shift in attitude, unsure of whether he was trying to run away from his problems again or not. Uneasily, she decided to ask him directly.

"Sir Yeral, what doth thou intend to do?" she asked sharply, and Yeral stopped in his tracks. He stayed silent again for several seconds, putting Priscilla on edge, before he looked solemnly up at the sky.

"I go, to do what I must. You know what that is." he said softly, his voice quivering. It was very obvious that he was just barely managing to hold onto his courage. Priscilla was still concerned, for it was obvious that Yeral was still very afraid of sacrificing himself for the sake of the world. She was about to say something to try and reassure him, before suddenly he span around on his heel to face her.

"You should leave this place. The gods are long gone, no one will persecute you. This world will need good people like you to rebuild it. Even in the face of hatred, even in the face of loneliness, you never let the world corrupt your heart. You have been imprisoned here long enough. " he urged, speaking with more conviction now than Priscilla had ever heard. Priscilla stared at him for a moment, clearly surprised, before stammering out a response.

"I... I hath been here so long... I knoweth not whether I possess the courage to leave..." she said sadly, and Yeral nodded silently in acceptance. Priscilla hung her head, upset that she seemed to have disappointed Yeral, before suddenly he did something that she was not expecting. Yeral strode towards her slowly, and then wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Priscilla was not used to such displays of affection, but slowly she leaned down and hugged him back. It was a good feeling, warm and friendly, things which Priscilla had little experience with.

"No matter what you decide... remember this feeling. Every time you see a crackling fire, or the sun in the sky, know that I am watching you. I am proud to call you my friend." Yeral said as he released the crossbreed from his grip. With those last words, he turned and sprinted towards a plank jutting from the side of the round structure where Priscilla stayed. Leaping off the plank and plummeting into the blackness below, Yeral suddenly vanished from sight, whisked instantaneously back to Lordran.

* * *

The Kiln of the First Flame was exactly as it had been when Yeral left it. Piles of ash, melted columns, and a round central structure. The remains of the once-great Gwyn still sat in the exact spot where he had been killed, a sobering reminder of the effects the First Flame had upon a living soul. Yeral marched determinedly through the ashes, until he was staring straight down at the flickering remains of the First Flame. It was nothing but a few jumping sparks and glowing coals now, even smaller than how Yeral had seen it last. It was clear that he had arrived just in time. He wished briefly that Priscilla was there with him, but he couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave the Painted World. She had lived most of her life there, and change could be scary.

He was glad that he had decided to stay and talk with her. In the end, it seemed, he had accomplished his goal of learning more about her after all. Maybe Yeral the hero really did exist, at least to one person. Yeral smiled fondly to himself, before kneeling down over the glowing embers. He reached out his hand to touch it, his entire body shaking with anxiety, and this time he did not hesitate. He plunged his armored fist deep into the heart of the fire, and instantly a blazing inferno engulfed his arm. The pain was excruciating, and he wanted desperately to pull away before the fire consumed him. Right then, when his courage was on the verge of faltering again, he heard a sound behind him. A very slight sound, like soft footsteps, but it was enough to get his attention.

Yeral looked over his shoulder, and saw the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway of the chamber of the flame was Priscilla, her fur coat shining white and seemingly unstained by the ashes. She looked beautiful, Yeral thought to himself, as he stared at her. Priscilla smiled sadly as the fire crawled its way up Yeral's arm, but the burning didn't seem so bad now. He smiled back at her and raised his unburnt arm in a quick greeting. Priscilla returned the gesture and nodded at him. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but Yeral would not have been able to hear her. They stared at each other in silence, until Yeral's vision was obscured by the fire engulfing his body. Priscilla lowered her eyes sadly, before turning and walking away as the roaring flames filled the chamber. Thus the age of fire began anew, with the tale of the knight and the crossbreed.


End file.
